Which Alters When It Alteration Finds
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: In 1970, Lord Voldemort's disappearance sets off a panic. In 1945, Tom Riddle vanishes from Borgin and Burkes while handling a mysterious object. The timelines collide. When young Bellatrix discovers that her master was once an unfathomably handsome teenager, all bets are off. Tom Riddle/Bellatrix, Time Travel, COMPLETE.
1. Timelines

**August 1970**

Bellatrix walked briskly up through the gates and gardens of Malfoy Manor. Through the wrought iron and fine rose bushes she went, her boots padding all the way. She had only been a Death Eater for a few months, so she had been here but a scant few times. She had received an owl from Abraxas Malfoy to gather, though she had no idea why. Shouldn't she have received such orders from her lord and master, Bellatrix contemplated?

In any case, she opened the main door of the house, determined to obey, and she rushed inside. She went up the foyer stairs and through the first-floor corridor to the meeting room. Two dozen Death Eaters had gathered inside. There was no war yet, but there would be. These, the ones who had come today, were Lord Voldemort's early pledges. Mostly, they were the ones who had attended school with him and had been a part of his gang. That group included Bellatrix's father, Cygnus Black III, as well as Rudy Lestrange. Rudy's sons, Rabastan and Rodolphus, had been granted entry to the inner circle owing to their tough-boy personas. Others at the table now included Mulciber, Avery, Nott, Yaxley, and others who had done Tom Riddle's bidding at Hogwarts. As for Bellatrix herself, she'd been made a Death Eater because Cygnus Black had shared with his master stories of his eldest daughter's Dark, vicious cruelty.

Bellatrix took a seat now at the table, and soon enough, Abraxas Malfoy began to speak.

"It is my duty," he said, "to ask whether anyone here gathered has seen or heard from our master in the past two weeks."

The ensuing silence was positively deafening. Bellatrix felt queasy and nervous as she realised the implications of what was being said.

"I have tried every method I possess of getting in contact with him," Abraxas continued, "but I have heard nothing. Seen nothing. It seems that our master is missing."

"Perhaps he does not wish to be found," suggested Mulciber.  
"What if he is in danger?" snapped Bellatrix.

"He is the most powerful wizard in the world," Cygnus reassured his daughter. "You think we could do something he could not?"

"What if he is in need of us?" Bellatrix demanded.

"He could call us through our Marks," Rabastan Lestrange reminded her. Bellatrix seethed.

"Then we should wait in silence for him?"

There was more helpless quiet then. Finally, Abraxas Malfoy said,

"I will be in contact the moment I hear anything. Or he will be. Until then, kindly notify the rest of us should you find anything out. Thank you."

Bellatrix frowned deeply as she rose from her seat at the table and stalked over to her father.

"What's become of him? I'm worried sick."

Cygnus threw his hands up. "There is nothing any of us can do, Bellatrix. He is a powerful wizard. He is more than capable of figuring out his own situation. He will return to us when it is convenient for him."

Bellatrix crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Are you certain, Father?"

Cygnus tipped his head and hesitated. "No, I am not certain. I am hopeful, which is the most any of us can be. Let's go home. It's late."

* * *

**August 1945**

Tom Riddle used his wand to Scour dust from the items on display in Borgin and Burkes. First, he cleaned a mummified foot, getting every bit of dust from the toenails and knuckles. Then he cleaned off a statue of a corpse reclining on a rock. He dusted an olive wood ring that was said to bring good luck, and then he Scoured an Everlasting Candle. As he worked, Tom contemplated that perhaps he ought to have done as everyone said and taken a Ministry position, after all. He was wasting away here in Borgin and Burkes, and it was only a few months after graduation. News of the Dumbledore/Grindelwald duel had dominated the papers and the Wireless ever since it had happened. All people cared about were heroes. Tom Riddle needed an opportunity to be a hero to the people of the wizarding world. He needed an opportunity to climb.

The bell above the door rang, and Tom looked up to see Evangeline Avery and Annina Mulciber come walking into the shop.

"Hello, ladies," said Tom in the most jovial voice he could manage. Evangeline and Annina were both pretty girls who had gone to school with Tom. "Can I help you find anything?"

Both girls giggled like mad, and Annina pushed her wavy hair out of her face as she grinned. Suddenly Tom realised they'd come for him, not for the shop's wares, and he sighed. He was rather used to this sort of thing, as it happened. Girls at school had flirted relentlessly with Tom, and even when he'd shown less than no interest, they'd persisted. He'd learnt how to be strategic with witches.

"I have just the thing to show you two today, actually," he said, gesturing to a shelf by the wall. "It's called an Everlasting Candle. Burns forever, and it smells however you'd prefer. Shall I show you?"

"Oh, certainly, Tom." Evangeline and Annina jostled for a position near Tom as he Conjured flame into the candle, and then he flashed them a winning smile as he asked,

"What does it smell like, Evangeline?"

"Ooh, this is like Amortentia," Evangeline noted. "Erm… smells like roses to me. Lovely."

"Warm vanilla biscuits to me," said Annina. "And you, Tom?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Like old books on a rainy day."

"How delightfully strange." Annina giggled ferociously, and Tom blew out the flame. He picked up the candle and cocked up a brow.

"It's only three Galleons to an interested party."

Evangeline raised her hand and followed Tom up to the front counter. She opened her purse and counted out three Galleons, which Tom put into the till before carefully wrapping and bagging the Everlasting Candle for Evangeline. She cleared her throat and said carefully,

"Are you busy tonight? Tom?"

Tom moved a bit more slowly as he handed her the bag. He chewed his lip and tipped his head.

"Miss Avery, are you asking me out?"  
"Maybe I am," she grinned, her green eyes shining. Annina looked shocked. Tom smirked and nodded.

"I would very much like to meet you at the White Wyvern at seven. Thank you."  
Evangeline grinned and nodded, her face flushing red. Now Annina looked mad with jealousy. The girls left then, sending the bell ringing again. Tom rolled his eyes, not at all looking forward to buying dinner for a clingy young witch.

"Tom, my boy." Mr Borgin came hobbling out from the back of the store, and Tom turned to him with a false, warm smile. Mr Borgin held out a necklace that looked like a pocket-watch on a long chain. "This is new inventory. Cursed. Find a good spot for it in the shop."

"Yes, Mr Borgin." Tom knew better than to ask exactly _how_ the object was Cursed. If Mr Borgin didn't elaborate, then it wasn't Tom's business. He took the clock necklace and made his way out onto the shop floor, going to a glass display case full of jewelry items. He opened the glass door and slipped the chain of the necklace over one wrist, using his hands to move the jewelry inside the case around to make a new spot.

Suddenly the necklace slipped off of his wrist and hand, moving so quickly and deliberately that it seemed to fall of its own volition. It landed with a hard _thud-crash_, crackling into a hundred pieces. Even the brass backing of the watch shattered. Tom gasped and scowled, crouching and pulling his wand from its holster. He aimed it at the shattered, ruined watch and murmured, quietly enough so Mr Borgin wouldn't hear,

"_Reparo__. __Reparo__. __Reparo__._" It wasn't working. The watch pieces didn't so much as twitch. Impulsively, Tom reached for the shattered pieces, something he would later regard as the most foolish thing he'd ever done. He pawed through them, thinking he was going to get sacked for this.

All of a sudden, his fingers went numb. He was profoundly dizzy, so he sat back on his bum and tipped his head back. He fell onto his back, smacking his head on the ground. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling quite ill. Everything was spinning. Then everything was whirling, pinching, yanking. Then everything was black, cold, and quiet.

When Tom opened his eyes at last, the dizziness and nausea had faded. He was in an armchair before an empty fireplace. He rose slowly and looked around the room. It was an office, he could tell at once. There were bookshelves on the walls. There was a desk. There were windows, outside which he could see expansive gardens. Tom's heart accelerated. Had those Cursed pieces been a Portkey? He'd been moved. Where was he? In someone's office? He walked over to the office door and opened it, stepping out into the corridor to find himself in somebody's grand house. Suddenly a tall, imposing figure with a queue of icy blond hair turned a corner and froze. His pale blue eyes gave him away at once - a Malfoy. He stared, his mouth dropping open, and he said in a voice of sheer disbelief,

"Tom?"

**Author's Note: Yes, this is going to be a Tom Riddle/Bellatrix story. Get ready for it! I'm excited for this one, guys. Hope you are, too. Thanks for reading and so much love for feedback.**


	2. Dinner

"Sorry. I don't believe we've met. I wound up here by way of a faulty Portkey." Tom stepped further out into the corridor and threw up his hands in a helpless gesture of non-recognition. The blond wizard before him gaped, apparently gobsmacked. His throat bobbed, and he whispered,

"It's me, sir. It's Abraxas Malfoy."

"Abraxas." Tom went cold then, studying the face of the man before him. Abraxas? Surely not; he'd just seen his nineteen-year-old school lackey days earlier at the Leaky Cauldron. Abraxas had been tall and thin, his face lean and angular and _young_. This wizard was middle-aged, with wrinkles round his icy eyes, with streaks of silver in his pale hair. But the resemblance was uncanny. This could be Abraxas' father or uncle or elder cousin, surely, but Abraxas himself? That would mean…

"Again, I do apologise for having appeared rather suddenly inside of your home," Tom said in a sharp tone. "I work at Borgin and Burkes, you see, and I handled a dangerous object that appears to have transported me rather unpredictably through space. I shall see myself back to Knockturn Alley if you will kindly show me the way out of here, and you have my sincerest apologies for my -"

"Master," said the wizard before him, and Tom froze. The two men just stared at one another then, and Abraxas shrugged.

"You have been missing from us for two weeks. Your… you older self. Lord… I dare not speak the name, but… the one you always promised to become. You have been gone for two weeks. And now your school-aged self comes walking out of your own office?"

"My own office?" Tom repeated, looking back over his shoulder. He frowned. Lord. _Lord Voldemort._ He gulped and turned back to the man claiming to be Abraxas Malfoy. He let out a shaking breath and finally asked the question that begged asking. "What is the date today… Abraxas?"

The other wizard blinked. "It is the fifteenth of August, nineteen seventy, My Lord."

Tom's stomach clenched at the use of the honorific, at the realisation that the broken pieces of the clock had sent him through time and not just space. He had been rocketed forward to a place where he was revered, where he was called _Master_ and _My Lord_, a place where he was known as _Lord Voldemort_ by the boys who had once made up his schoolyard gang of bullies. Tom touched at his forehead and shut his eyes a little.

"Come into… my office… will you?" he asked Abraxas, and he opened the door and walked back into the room where he'd blinked open his eyes. Abraxas dutifully followed him inside and shut the door behind him. Tom moved to sit in the large wingback chair behind the desk, and Abraxas sat opposite him and seemed very nervous. He smiled just a little and shrugged.

"Haven't seen you young like this in twenty-five years, sir," he declared, and Tom gave a slow nod.

"I saw you young a few days ago, eating stew with Mercy Travers."

Abraxas' eyes watered suddenly, and he blinked quickly. "I married Mercy," he said. "We have a son, Lucius; he's fourteen."

"Interesting." Tom started to feel the reality of everything wash over him. That broken glass, those shards of brass, had been Cursed to send someone flying through time and space. And he had been hurtled to a point where his elder self had already disappeared. That did not feel coincidental. That did not feel like an accident.

"The others?" Tom asked. "Tell me what has happened."

Abraxas nodded. "You worked at Borgin and Burkes for some time, and then you vanished. Rumour had it that you went to the Continent to learn the Dark Arts in more depth. When you came back, you looked… _different. _You looked like deep spellwork had affected you."

"I was ugly," Tom corrected him, and Abraxas said with caution,

"You were scarred. Badly. Waxy and tired-looking. It would have been worrisome, but you were very powerful. You declared yourself to be Lord… Lord…"

"Voldemort. You fear speaking the name," Tom narrowed his eyes, and Abraxas cleared his throat.

"It became a fearful name to speak, after enough killings and attacks. You gathered up the old gang again, plus some new recruits, mostly the grown children of a few of our old friends. Rudy Lestrange's hard-knuckled boys, Rabastan and Rodolphus. And Cygnus Black's terrifying daughter, Bellatrix. She's only been with us for a few months, and she's already killed five Muggles on her own, from what I hear."

"Pudgy, money-obsessed Cygnus has a murderous daughter?" Tom smirked, and Abraxas nodded.

"Oh, yes." He shivered. "Wouldn't want to cross paths with her; she held a Cruciatus on a captured Muggle for twenty-five minutes solid."

Tom sat up straight, intrigued. "Well. I need to meet _her_. As for the others… were they loyal to me? To Lord Voldemort?"

"Unto the death, sir," Abraxas nodded. He peeled back the sleeve of his left arm and revealed a pale pink tattoo-like mark, a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. "You gave us each the Dark Mark, Master, and you Summon us through them. They are our brands of everlasting loyalty and devotion to you."

Tom dragged his fingers over the Dark Mark on Abraxas' skin, smiling to himself. He knew the spell he'd have used to create these Marks - _Morsmordre__._ He'd wanted to make them ever since he'd been a fifth year in school. He'd grown up to do it.

Just an hour earlier, he realised, he'd been in Borgin and Burkes contemplating that he needed a way to shine, a way to grow and become what he was meant to be. Perhaps this time travel was it. Perhaps moving through space and time to a place where he already _was_ great was exactly what he'd been looking for.

"I will meet with everyone one-on-one," Tom declared, "to lessen the shock of this revelation. I would prefer to have conversations with everyone in private. Where do I… where do I live?"

Abraxas' mouth fell open a little, and he nodded. "You live in a flat in Knightsbridge, My Lord. We'd discussed you moving in here once the war truly begins, but -"

"War," Tom repeated, and Abraxas said,

"You mean to wage war on the Ministry, on the Muggles, on Mudbloods. We are gathering strength for that, Master. In the meantime, your flat is at 14 Montpelier Street."

"Thank you." Tom cleared his throat roughly and shrugged. "That will be all."

"Y-Yes, sir." Abraxas rose, staring at Tom like he had sixteen heads, and he backed slowly out of the room until he awkwardly hit the door.

* * *

Bellatrix felt so anxious she could scarcely breathe as she made her way up the foyer steps in Malfoy Manor. Her father had told her that his meeting with Lord Voldemort had been "shocking," and that Bellatrix needed to be prepared to see things that made her feel completely alarmed. Bellatrix was going into this meeting fully expecting to see her lord and master missing a limb or an eyeball, or perhaps having gained a wife, or having turned into some sort of awful monster.

Her fist shook terribly as she knocked on his office door. It swung open slowly, and a strangely boy-like voice called,

"Enter."

Bellatrix frowned and stepped into the office, pulling the door shut behind her. As she walked into the office, she froze mid-step, confused by what she saw. Sitting at Voldemort's desk was a tall, lean young wizard with wavy black hair, piercing dark eyes, full lips, a narrow nose, and a tiny smirk. Who was this boy? Bellatrix scowled and demanded in a soft voice,

"Who are you?"

"I am Lord Voldemort," said the boy simply, folding his hands on the desk. "Sit."

Bellatrix did as he commanded her, bowing her head as she sank into the chair opposite him. So this was what her father had meant. Some spell, some curse, had turned Voldemort into a young man. Or, at least, had made him appear young. She sighed and murmured,

"You know, Master, that I shall always serve you with all that I am, no matter your appearance."

"Good," he said. "Then you deserve to know the truth."

Bellatrix raised her eyes to his, her stomach twisting at just how ridiculously handsome he was. He looked right around her age, which didn't help her attraction to him. She saw his eyes flash a little as she stared at him, but he quickly collected himself and told her primly,

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Yesterday, I was working in Borgin and Burkes when I dropped a Cursed clock pendant on the shop floor. It shattered, and whilst trying to repair it, I touched the pieces. I was sucked through a black, cold void, and when I awoke in an office, I thought the clock had been some sort of odd Portkey. But with the help of Abraxas Malfoy, an old school friend, I quickly realised that I had moved not only through space but also time. Twenty-five years of time to the day, to be precise."

Bellatrix's jaw went slack. She stared at the handsome boy and realised he was not her older master made to look young. He _was_ young. This was the boy who had attended school with her father, who had grown to become Lord Voldemort. This was Tom Riddle. She just gawked like an idiot as he continued,

"It is my understanding that my elder self has been absent from this time and place for several weeks. I do not believe that is a coincidence, though the full meaning of this eludes me still. In any case, I shall take my rightful place as the leader of my movement here, regardless of my age. You are the last Death Eater I am meeting with, owing to your position as the newest one to join our ranks. Every other Death Eater has agreed to follow me in spite of my age and appearance. Every single Death Eater has vowed to maintain their pledges of loyalty under pain of death. Will you do the same?"

"Master," Bellatrix breathed, "you are the wizard I serve in any time, in any place, no matter your age or appearance. You are still _him_ \- the Dark Lord - and you always have been. I shall cast Cruciatus Curse after Cruciatus Curse, Killing Curse after Killing Curse for you. Always. Forever."

Tom Riddle tipped his head and touched his fingertips together, smiling just a little.

"Your father was right," he said, and Bellatrix breathlessly asked,

"About what, sir?"

"About you." He narrowed his eyes, and his smile grew. "Abraxas was right, too. They said you were vicious. A consummate killer. Unflinchingly loyal to me. They were right. I know the others; they've changed little since their school days. But I was not certain what I'd find in you. I like what I see."

"Thank you." Bellatrix bowed her head again, her eyes welling heavily. Her master had never complimented her like that before. It made her stomach flutter to hear him speak of her like that. She raised her eyes at last and saw him studying her. He cleared his throat and said,

"I feel a bit of an idiot asking the others - the ones who were in my gang - to tell me stories and history of the past twenty-five years. Are you well familiar with what's happened?"

"I know who's married whom, and who's had what babies, and the major news happenings, and all of that," Bellatrix nodded. "Might I help you in that regard, sir?"

"I should like to discuss it over dinner, if you please," he told her. "I've been meeting in this office with Death Eaters all day long and I grow tired of being here. My flat in Knightsbridge has a House-Elf who's a mean cook. Join me to discuss everything, will you? Not as though I can go to the Leaky Cauldron looking so recognisable and young."

"As you command, Master," Bellatrix agreed, feeling a stirring in her belly at the idea of going to Lord Voldemort's flat. She walked with him out of his office and down the foyer steps, and he asked her,

"So, you've just graduated Hogwarts this past June? That makes you, what, eighteen?"

"Yes, Master; I turn nineteen in September," Bellatrix nodded. He pinched his lips.

"We are the same age, then. I graduated in June where I left; I am eighteen, as well."

Bellatrix felt almost sick looking at him then; he was devastatingly handsome. She was dizzy and felt weak as he held open the door for her and led her out into the gardens, and as they walked past the gate to the Apparition Point, Bellatrix admitted,

"I don't know where your flat is, My Lord."

"I'll take you by Side-Along," he said matter-of-factly. He grabbed her hand, and they were gone in a pinching whirl, coming to in the Rococo corridor of the fancy building in Knightsbridge. Tom Riddle pulled out his wand and aimed it his door, murmuring an _Alohomora_ and pushing it open. Inside was a bright, airy apartment that spanned the lateral space of the building, window after window with expansive sitting and dining space. Tom barked at the House-Elf to make them some roast lemon chicken, potatoes, and haricots verts, and Bellatrix stepped up to the window and stared down at the cars on the street below.

"Silly, stupid things, aren't they?" asked Tom Riddle. "They slug along in traffic, barely moving at all, polluting the air… honestly, that's the best they can do?"

"They're ridiculous, Master," Bellatrix agreed. She went with him to the dining table then, for the food was ready. She watched as Tom shucked his outer robe and rolled up his white shirt sleeves, an act that was almost criminally alluring, and he uncorked a bottle of white wine and poured them each a glass. He finally sat and asked,

"So. Cygnus tells me you have sisters. Andromeda and Narcissa? And I know about Rudy's boys and Abraxas' son. Who else is of note?"

Bellatrix spent the next ten minutes rattling off who had married whom in the Pureblood world, what children everyone had had, and who had died in the twenty-five years that Tom Riddle had missed. They snuck in bites of chicken and potato as they talked. He nodded and asked,

"And in terms of important events in the wizarding world?"

Bellatrix explained political changes, new laws, shifts in popular music, and important Quidditch happenings. By now, she'd finished her food, and she was out of breath from talking so much. But Tom Riddle stared at her and nodded.

"Thank you," he said as he set down his fork and knife. "I am truly grateful. To learn about everyone from Mindy Bulstrode to Sirius Black, to learn about the death of Yarbina Yaxley. To learn of new laws governing broom registration, and rock music, and death prevention in Quidditch… you see, Bellatrix, without me learning these things, I can not rule properly, because I would be ignorant. And if I am ignorant, people will not take me seriously or listen to me. So you have helped me enormously, and I am grateful."

Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot, and she shrugged a little as she whispered,

"Thank you for dinner."

"I suppose you must be going." He rapped his knuckles on the dining table and rose slowly, and Bellatrix flew to her feet. She bowed her head, and when she raised her eyes, he was giving her a very serious look. He scratched at his wavy black hair and cleared his throat, sticking his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Right. See you soon, then," he said, walking with her over to the door. Bellatrix moved briskly, standing before the door and knowing she could Disapparate from inside the flat. He stood a little more closely than she expected him to do, and he gazed down at her as he said softly, "I should like, sometime, to see you demonstrate that Cruciatus Curse everyone keeps saying you're so skilled with. I like to see things with my own eyes."

She grinned. "It would be an honour and a privilege."

Tom gulped visibly and nodded. "Right. See you, then."

"Goodnight, Master," Bellatrix said, and she Disapparated straight from the spot, coming to in her parents' house.

**Author's Note: So he's doing a good job establishing his power and authority, but he ****clearly ****has a weak spot for Bellatrix. What do you think will happen once he sees her cast a Cruciatus Curse? And what will happen if he **_**does**_ **go** **out in public? Hmm.**

**Thanks a million for reading and a billion for reviewing!**


	3. Robes

Word quickly worked its way round the Pureblood community that Lord Voldemort was now Tom Riddle. A massive, unanticipated breach of time had occurred, it was being said. By the third day of Tom's "stay" in his new time and place, employees from the Ministry of Magic showed up at Malfoy Manor demanding to speak with Tom Riddle, barking at the House-Elf that they knew he was there.

"I am indeed here." Tom walked slowly to the top of the foyer steps and beckoned. "Please. Come into my office and we shall speak civilly."

The rail-thin, middle-aged witch and the plump, greying wizard climbed the stairs and followed Tom through his office door. He shut the door behind them and Multiplied the chair on the opposite side of his desk until there were two, and he gestured for the Ministry employees to sit. He sank into the chair on the other side of his desk, and he raised his eyebrows.

"My name is Matilda Beaulieu," said the witch, "and this is my colleague, Charles Wademan. We are from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We have a list of offences committed by Lord Voldemort - a list of offences sufficient to land him in Azkaban for the rest of his life with a Dementor's Kiss."

Tom tipped his head and shrugged. "But I am not Lord Voldemort. He was a forty-something man, and I am not. I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, and a few days ago, I was in 1945, working in Borgin and Burkes. Anything on any list of yours, I haven't done."

"Yet," hissed Matilda Beaulieu, and Tom narrowed his eyes.

"I promise to be on my best behaviour in this time and place, Ms. Beaulieu. As Tom Riddle, stranded time traveller."

She pinched her lips and looked to her colleague, who finally spoke.

"Where are you staying, Mr Riddle?"

"At a flat in Knightsbridge," Tom said in an airy voice. "I shall ensure that the address is registered properly with the Ministry. Have you any other concerns?"

"Of course we have," snapped Charles Wademan. "Time travel of the sort you've completed is incredibly dangerous and illegal. What sort of object caused this time travel, anyway?"

"It was a broken necklace in Borgin and Burkes," Tom said, evading a complete answer to the best of his ability. He rapped his knuckles on the desk and said, "I was picking up the broken pieces and then everything pinched and pulled, went black and cold. And when I opened my eyes, I was here, in this office, and Abraxas Malfoy recognised me from our old school days."

"Your reputation precedes you," said Matilda Beaulieu. "You were known as quite the charmer during your school days. A charmer of students and professors alike. You manipulated your way into getting what you wanted. Know, Mr Riddle, that that will not happen for you here. We well know of the man you grew to become. We know of the fledgling movement you are attempting to grow."

"Oh, you do?" Tom cocked up a brow. "You know more than me, then. Do tell."

Matilda sneered. "You mean to follow in the footsteps of Grindelwald and Rappaport-era America. You want to separate Muggles, and Muggle-borns, from so-called 'pure' wizarding society."

"I assure you I want nothing of the sort," Tom lied, and the two Ministry employees eyed one another. Matilda said in a careful tone,

"What you did, or what happened to you, was incredibly dangerous and highly illegal in any year. We have no means of getting you moved safely back through time without mucking up the timeline, not even with devices controlled by the Ministry. Leaps of time this big, this accidental, must be left alone. But that does not mean we will not be watching you. So tread lightly, Mr Riddle. Tread softly. The Ministry will always have an eye on you."

"Understood." Tom nodded. "Thank you for coming. Shall I show you out?"

After the Ministry employees left, Tom had to plan a trip to Diagon Alley. He desperately needed more clothes that actually fit this young, lean body of his; apparently he'd grown bulkier with age. All the robes in his wardrobe in his flat hung off of his frame. He needed dress robes, specifically, because the next day was the wedding of Abraxas' much-younger brother, Octavius Malfoy, to his even-younger wife, Mila Selwyn. Tom had been surprised to learn about the elaborate event happening at Malfoy Manor, and it was jarring because Octavius had been little more than a toddler when Tom had left his time. But apparently this wedding had been planned for months now, and all of Pureblood society would be there.

Tom would be like a freak in a show, he knew. Everyone would want to lay eyes on the young, handsome Tom Riddle who had come to take Lord Voldemort's place. Word had trickled round that the Death Eaters were too afraid not to vow loyalty to him, too afraid of Tom's potential to kill. Tom needed to maintain that fear, he knew, or all was lost. If people did not believe he would murder them left, right, and centre for trying to usurp him, all the progress he'd made in these twenty-five years would be erased.

When he walked out of the Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley, he felt eyes on him from every direction. He kept his face forward, tipped up his chin, and then had an idea. He veered into Knockturn Alley and made his way toward Borgin and Burkes. He needed to know whether the timelines were linear. He needed to know if he'd moved straight forward, or if there had been a sideways jump. And one simple question would answer that for him.

The bell ringing over the door of Borgin and Burkes was so familiar that Tom took a moment to catch his breath. Twenty-five years changed nothing and everything. He stepped into the shop and realised some of the same objects that had been for sale twenty-five years earlier were still on offer. He waited until an ancient wizard came hobbling out from the back, and then Caractacus Burke froze.

"Tom," he said softly. "So it is true."

"Mr Burke," Tom nodded. "May I please speak with Mr Borgin?"

"He has passed," said Mr Burke, and Tom licked his lip carefully, prepared to apologise. But Mr Burke said, "You never vanished from this shop, Tom. That isn't how it worked out. Not in my memory."

"Believe it or not, that is all I needed to know," Tom said. He chomped his lip, realising at once that wherever Lord Voldemort had gone from this time, there had been a sideways motion involved. He asked Mr Burke, "Are you well, sir?"

Mr Burke's face hardened, and he shook his head. "Don't become that monster."

"Right." Tom scratched at his black hair and flashed Mr Burke a small smile. "I'd offer to sweep the floor or something; feels wrong not to work in here. I wish you well, sir. Good day."

He left then and made his way as quickly as he could to Twillfit and Tattings, glad because money did not seem to be a problem here. He'd never had the luxury of money, so he'd never even been inside Twillfit and Tattings. He'd never been in luxurious robes like the ones they fitted on him for the wedding. He'd never handed over so many Galleons for one outfit before, and it felt good.

He didn't mind the stares as he worked his way back out onto the street and Disapparated back to Knightsbridge. Let people stare, he thought. Let people think it very odd and bizarre and wondrously curious that Tom Riddle had come through time and space. He would show them all that this boy was just as fearsome and terrible a creature as the grown man who had disappeared.

* * *

"What do you mean, you're not coming?" Bellatrix snapped at Andromeda, who sat curled up on her bed in a nightgown.

"They wouldn't even let Ted through the door at that wedding," Andromeda spat, and Bellatrix scoffed.

"That's because Ted is a Mudblood."

"See? You're just like them!" Andromeda threw her hands up. "All this ridiculous talk of Blood Purity and who's good enough and who isn't! I'm not going to any stupid wedding celebrating two of the Sacred Twenty-Eight uniting in more inbreeding!"

"Mum!" Bellatrix hollered down the stairs of the Black family townhouse. "Andy refuses to come to the wedding because she's a Mudblood-loving wench!"

"Andromeda Black, if that's why you're not coming, then you can just stay home!" yelled Druella from downstairs. "Don't you dare disrespect this family with any more talk of that Ted Tonks boy! You stay in your room if you're not coming! Bellatrix, hurry and get ready. Cissy's already down here."

"Coming. Andy, you're a complete disaster," Bellatrix hurled at her sister, whirling on her foot and stomping down the stairs. She'd chosen a long-sleeved, form-fitting gown in a shimmering black material with a slit up her thigh. She'd tied her curls up atop her head and had worn an oval diamond pendant her father had given her for her seventeenth birthday. As she moved into the sitting room, she saw that pretty blonde Narcissa was in a poufy emerald-and-silver dress, and she'd worn low heels.

"Good for you, putting high heels on like a big girl," Bellatrix teased, and Narcissa stuck her tongue out at Bellatrix. The family gathered together to go to Malfoy Manor by Apparition; the manor wasn't on the Floo Network. Cygnus took Narcissa by Side-Along since she was too young to go alone. They all came to in the gardens, and Narcissa commented on the lovely smell of the roses.

"Wonder if Lucius will dance with you tonight," Bellatrix mused, and Narcissa grinned.

"Oh, I hope he does. What if he doesn't?" She gasped. "Oh, I'll die of mortification if he doesn't!"

They had set the gardens up for the ceremony with rows of chairs, and the family took seats about halfway down one side. Bellatrix sat on the aisle, and suddenly she gasped.

Him.

Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. He was walking up the aisle, and everyone was staring and murmuring. He was nodding to people, saying hello, clapping shoulders. He looked so handsome Bellatrix could barely breathe. She was obviously not the only witch feeling that way. In the row in front of her, Mrs Avery hissed to her daughter,

"He's incredibly handsome. I'd nearly forgotten. But you must pursue him, Alivia!"

Bellatrix blinked quickly as he passed by her. He paused and smiled a little at her, coming over to her and bending down.

"Don't forget your promise," he said. "I want to see your skill in action very soon."

Bellatrix just nodded. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She was numb. The ceremony went by in a blur. Mila Selwyn walked up the aisle in a pretty dress on her father's arm. She and Octavius Malfoy exchanged vows. There were readings. People kissed. People clapped. Bellatrix followed the crowd inside for hors d'oeuvres, drinks, and dancing. As she neared the ballroom, she heard a familiar voice beside her.

"You were wrong."

Bellatrix snapped her face up to Tom Riddle and sucked in air. She shook her head and mumbled.

"I'm so sorry. Wrong about what?"

"You said that the new rule about Bludgers was implemented in 1962, but it was 1964. I heard them mention it on the Wireless today discussing an injury in a Quidditch match." He dragged his teeth over his lip, and Bellatrix's mouth fell open.

"I am so sorry. I did not mean to give you incorrect information."

"I'm teasing you," he assured her. "I don't mind. It's two years' difference; it's trivia. I'm being cruel."

Bellatrix smiled a little, weakly, and opened her mouth to say something, but Mrs Avery came up and practically dragged Tom away, insisting he must dance with her daughter Alivia as soon as the dance floor opened. Bellatrix felt an ugly coil in her lower belly, and she moved over to the table full of sausages. She put a half dozen on a plate and snatched a glass of Champagne. She watched Mila and Octavius Malfoy dance, and then she watched Tom Riddle dance with Alivia Avery. Then he danced with a few of the witches who had gone to school with him, the witches who remembered him like this. Bellatrix ate until she thought her stomach would burst, and she drank three flutes of Champagne. She was full and tipsy and nasty with jealousy, and then Rodolphus Lestrange walked up to her. He was huge, towering and broad with a jaw that could cut glass.

"Hullo, Bellatrix," he said. "Wondering if you'd dance with me."

"Oh. Dolph. Yes. Of course." Bellatrix took his hand and let him lead her out to the dance floor. She walked to a spot with him and struggled to reach his shoulder, for she was as short as he was tall. She held his hand and swayed with him, and then she caught Tom Riddle's eye. He was dancing with Mila Malfoy, giving the bride none of his attention as he trained his eyes on Bellatrix. She tried to focus on dancing with Rodolphus, staring up into his face and saying warmly,

"I hope you've been well."

"I have been. You?" Rodolphus was not a champion conversationalist. Bellatrix just nodded. She flicked her eyes back over to Tom, who was so distracted from his dance with poor Mila that he appeared to have stepped on her toes. He was apologising now, his face gone red. Rodolphus asked,

"Isn't it amazing? That our master has come back as his younger self?"

"It is amazing. I shall always worship him, no matter his age or appearance. I know he can say the same for you." Bellatrix gave Rodolphus a meaningful look. Rodolphus nodded. He cleared his throat and said,

"Listen. Now we've left school, it's time. My father would like me to look for a…"

"Oh, Dolph." Bellatrix shut her eyes. She knew what he was going to say. A wife. His father would like him to look for a wife. Bellatrix shook her head fiercely and stared up at Rodolphus. "I can't have that conversation right now."

"Someday, will you think about having that conversation with me?" Rodolphus asked boldly. "Just a conversation? About options? We both need options, being Purebloods."

"Yes, we do." Bellatrix sighed. He wasn't wrong. She would need a match, sooner rather than later. She gnawed hard on her lip and said, "Someday I will have that conversation with you, Rodolphus."

The song ended, and Rodolphus dared to lean down and kiss Bellatrix on her forehead. It shocked her until he said in a soft voice,

"Someday. A conversation. Thanks for the dance."

"You're welcome." Bellatrix watched him walk away, and then she was surprised as Tom Riddle came stalking straight up to her. He bowed his head, as if doing more would debase him and doing less would be unchivalrous, and he asked,

"May I have the next dance, Miss Black?"

"You may, Master," Bellatrix agreed, going into a dancing stance with him. He was tall, too, though not as monstrously huge as Rodolphus. She fit more easily with him, she thought. They moved as the song struck up, and Tom asked,

"He is your… boyfriend? Rodolphus Lestrange?"

"Boyfriend? No." Bellatrix scoffed and laughed. "No, Master."

Tom frowned. "He kissed you."

"We were discussing the idea of getting married," Bellatrix said, rolling her eyes a little at the notion. Tom's eyebrows went up.

"So, not a boyfriend. Just a potential husband."

"Well, I have to have a husband," Bellatrix shrugged. "He's probably as good as any. He's a Death Eater; I'd prefer one of those. He's attractive enough. He's simple. Won't bother me."

"That sounds an awful lot like settling," Tom said in a mocking tone, and Bellatrix laughed a little.

"Have you a different suggestion, My Lord?"

"Why don't you just wait?" he said. "I never married, and it seems I was happy enough doing that."

Bellatrix let out a long sigh. "With all due respect, you were the Dark Lord ascending. And, with all due respect, you were a Half-Blood. I am a member of the House of Black, and a witch. Marriage is not optional. And I must marry young."

They kept swaying, and after a while, Tom cleared his throat and said,

"May I pay you a compliment?"

"You may do whatever you please, Master," Bellatrix informed him back. He smiled a little and told her,

"There are quite a lot of witches here tonight, but you are the prettiest one. So."

Bellatrix tried not to grin. She shook her head and felt herself blush. "Have you told that to every witch you've danced with?"

"No." He seemed serious then, and as the song ended, Bellatrix felt her smile vanish a little. He stared at her and breathed, "Just wait to get married; there's no real rush. That's an order from your lord and master."

"Yes, sir." Bellatrix was breathless then, staring at him on the dance floor, and he gazed back at her as he blinked a few times. Then his throat bobbed, and he glanced to the enchanted instruments starting up another song, and he asked,

"Would you like to dance again?"

Author's Note: So Tom is fully public, and he and Bellatrix clearly have the hots for each other! What next? What happens when Tom starts trying to command his Death Eaters, and what about Bellatrix putting on her Cruciatus show for him? And just how hard will Rodolphus be pursuing marriage? I just want to make sure that people are actually interested in reading and enjoying this story. I do realize that I upload very quickly and leave little time for reviews, but I'd love to know your thoughts. If you get a quick moment to drop a note, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks so very much for reading.


	4. Curses

"Yaxley. Avery. I hear you've brought me my Muggle." Tom Riddle folded his hands on his desk and smirked at the two wizards on the other side. Blond-haired Yaxley looked much the same as he'd looked in school, just older and thicker, but Avery had aged badly. He was still as short as ever, now downright fat, with thinning, greying hair. Time had not been kind to him. But both Avery and Yaxley were sworn Death Eaters, and Tom was not about to make things a beauty pageant.

"We intercepted a housewife on her way to go shopping, M-My Lord." The honorific was still awkward in Yaxley's mouth when speaking to his old school friend, Tom could tell, but he kept his face cool and still. Yaxley continued, "We found her in Sussex, in a little town there. We Stupefied her, brought her here and bound her up, and took her to the dungeons. She's waiting in chains down below. She screamed for an hour, but then shut up."

Avery gave a malicious laugh, and Tom smirked. He nodded and asked,

"Be honest with me now. What is your typical compensation for work such as this?"

"Compensation?" Avery repeated. He frowned and shook his head. "Master, this sort of service is simply expected of us; there is no monetary gain on our part."

Tom felt his features soften. He had gathered enough loyal servants to simply order them about? He liked that idea very much. He licked his lip and said,

"You have my gratitude the both of you."

Both wizards bowed their heads, and Yaxley hesitated before asking,

"My Lord, if you left 1945 not so long ago, does that mean you saw all of us young in very recent memory?"

Tom curled up half his lip and glanced from Avery to Yaxley. "Believe me, Yaxley; this is as strange for me as it is for all of you. Perhaps even stranger. Yes. I saw all of you, young, not so long ago."

"Speaking of young ones, My Lord," said Avery in an awkward segue, "My daughter Alivia told me how very much she enjoyed dancing with you at the Malfoy-Selwyn wedding. She said it was like a dream."

"Was it?" Tom drummed his fingers on the desk and shrugged. "You have a lovely daughter, Avery."

Avery's face went red, and he gave a quick nod. He and Yaxley turned to go then, and as they left Tom's office, he pulled back the sleeve on the new robes he'd bought from Twillfit and Tattings. He'd obtained four sets in total, and he'd need more. He yanked back the tighter-fitting tunic underneath the outer robe and stared at the Dark Mark he'd put on his own flesh. He dragged his fingers over it and felt pride. He'd invented this spell, this magic. This Mark was his to give, his to receive, his to use. Tom touched his wand to his Dark Mark and whispered in a silky voice,

"_Morsmordre__._"

Then he imagined the face of Bellatrix Black. He pictured her wide, dark eyes, her narrow nose, her full lips. He thought of her round cheekbones, of her insane black curls. He thought of her petite stature, of the way she'd felt in his arms dancing. He thought of her at dinner in his flat. He Summoned her with thoughts of her swirling in his mind, calling her through the ether. He beckoned to her through the dark silence, and then he set his wand on his desk with a shaking hand. He pulled his sleeves down and gulped, reaching for his glass of water.

It seemed to take an eternity for her to come, though he knew she would leave wherever she was the instant she felt his Summons. She would have to come to the Apparition Point and walk up through the gardens, up through the foyer and corridors. And so, by the time she knocked on his office door, Tom's breath was quick in his nostrils, and his heart was racing with impatience. He rose and walked over to the door, pulling it open to see her standing there in a scandalously short black dress and knee-high black boots. He scowled at her and tipped his head, but she explained helplessly,

"I'm so sorry, Master; I was going to the White Wyvern with a few of the old Slytherin girls. I came as quickly as I could."

"Oh. I am sorry to have interrupted you," he told her, stepping back so she could come into his office. He closed the door, trying not to stare at the way her breasts swelled over her tight dress, the way her waist looked so tiny, the way her backside was shaped just so by the material. He sucked in air and chomped his lip.

"I've brought you here because I have a captive Muggle in the basement," he said. "I obtained this captive Muggle just especially for you, because you have a reputation for casting merciless Cruciatus Curses. I should like to witness this with my own eyes."

Bellatrix suddenly broke into an enormous grin and nodded. She touched at her teeth and giggled softly.

"Oh, I am much more excited about this than I ought to be," she declared, and Tom raised his brows. She truly was wicked, he thought. He liked it. It excited him, thinking about this beautiful witch being so elated by the prospect of cruelty.

The two of them made their way out of the office and down the foyer steps, through a small corridor that led to the dungeon stairs. Bellatrix let Tom open the door for her, and she pulled her wand from the holster at her hip as she carefully moved down the steps into the dimly lit space. Down in the dungeon, a Muggle woman flew to her feet, chained heavily to the wall, and began to cry out.

"Please. Whoever you are, just let me go. I haven't done anything wrong; I just want to go home, and I -"

"_CRUCIO!_"

Bellatrix jabbed her wand at the woman, and a scarlet web of light crackled out through the air and flung itself around the woman's body. She was snared up instantly, and she crashed to the stone floor, cracking her head on the ground. At first, Tom thought the woman was unconscious, but then she began to scream. It was the most unholy, wretched sound that Tom had ever heard. Her shriek ripped from her chest and echoed off the walls of the dungeon. Bellatrix stalked around the Muggle woman like a predator stalking prey, holding her wand steady and sure. She looked like a crocodile about to snap as the Muggle arched her back and pounded the floor. The victim scratched at the stone ground, her feet curling up beneath her, her knees knocking together and then against the floor. Her head kept slamming onto the ground, over and over again, and Bellatrix began to laugh. Her laughter started as a low growl in her throat and then grew until it became a cackle of pure glee.

All the while, Tom felt himself becoming aroused. He could not help the process, not when Bellatrix was looking downright sexy and was behaving like this. He couldn't help wanting her when Bellatrix was stalking her Muggle prey and bathed in the red light of her Cruciatus Curse. He couldn't help going a little hard as he watched the scene unfold before him. He couldn't help it if he wound up standing there, gripping his wand, with a growing erection hidden by his robes.

He gulped and felt thirsty as Bellatrix's Cruciatus went on and on. The Muggle woman on the ground was screaming less now. She had grown quiet and still and was just twitching and convulsing now and then. Bellatrix still held the spell, and eventually she shouted,

"She is ruined! Destroyed, Master!"

"Will you kill her?" Tom asked a bit breathlessly, feeling like he was making a request of a hired woman. Bellatrix smirked and nodded at him.

"Of course I will," she purred, and Tom tipped his head back a little. He watched as Bellatrix snapped her wand away, breaking the Cruciatus Curse, and then whipped her wand forward again and screamed, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

There was a blinding jade green flash of light, illuminating the entirety of the dungeon, and Tom covered his eyes with the back of his wrist to shield them. He watched as the Muggle woman shot backward against the wall, her chains clanking around her. She slammed onto the wall and crumpled down like a rag doll in death, and Bellatrix crossed her arms and tipped her chin up with pride.

"How was that, Master?" she asked, and Tom struggled to answer her. He took a step toward her and decided all of a sudden that he wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel what that little waist was like under that thin, short dress. He wanted to drag his fingers over the swell of her breasts. He wanted to -

"Master?" She sounded worried now, as though his silence meant disapproval. He let out a shaking breath and told her in a serious voice,

"Bellatrix, I am very impressed and quite… I am…" He wasn't sure how to explain to her what she was making him experience. He finally just nodded and said, "Well done. Very well done, indeed. Shall we celebrate?"

"Celebrate, My Lord?" Bellatrix smiled a little, and he shrugged.

"I pulled you away from the White Wyvern with friends. You're free to go back there with them. Or, if you'd prefer, perhaps you might join me in Knightsbridge for a cocktail or three."

Bellatrix's smile grew as she glanced back at the dead Muggle.

"Oh, I'd much rather come to Knightsbridge than listen to the Slytherin girls gossip," she declared. She aimed her wand at the Muggle woman's corpse, gave Tom an expectant look, waited for his nod, and then incanted, "_Corpus Evanesco._"

* * *

Bellatrix stood outside the door of Tom's Knightsbridge flat and waited for him to open the door. She followed him inside and let him shut the door. He used his wand to light the lamps inside the flat, and he called out,

"Pinky, go to bed."

Bellatrix was a little confused by that, by him banishing the House-Elf to its quarters, but she gave him a little smile as he walked into the kitchen and began pulling bottles of liquor and mixers from a cupboard.

"I very evidently liked cocktails as my older self; I found every ingredient imaginable in here," Tom mused. "Have you got a drink you prefer?"

Bellatrix hesitated, then shrugged up one shoulder and suggested, "Surprise me, My Lord."

He gave her a winning smirk, then said, "Right, then. Two cucumber Collins, coming right up."

She watched in wonder as he took out a cucumber and sliced it up, dropping the slices into the bottoms of tall glasses. He drizzled in lemon juice and simple syrup and muddled it all together with a steel rod. Then he poured in generous helpings of gin before topping the drinks with soda water. He handed Bellatrix's cocktail to her, and she grinned. She sipped at it, and she hummed.

"Mmm… delicious!" She gave a vigorous nod. "Far better than anything I'd have gotten at the White Wyvern, that's for certain."

Tom sipped his own drink and leaned onto the counter. He Banished the bottles and ingredients away and Scoured his countertop, and he said lightly to Bellatrix,

"What you did in that dungeon was unimaginably… it was truly… I enjoyed it."

Bellatrix sipped her drink and made a self-deprecating noise and gesture. "It was nothing, Master. I serve you with whatever spells are required of me. Cruciatus Curse. Killing Curse. I use whatever means I must in order to -"

"You looked beautiful doing it," Tom blurted, and Bellatrix stared. She remembered the way he'd told her she'd been the prettiest witch at the wedding. He took a drink and continued, "You are beautifully cruel. I very much enjoy how pretty and merciless and you are."

"Master…" Bellatrix stared down into her glass. She felt drunk all of a sudden after half of one drink. She had never been told by Lord Voldemort, in his older years, that she was beautiful. She had never been told by him that he liked watching her work, that he found her _beautifully __cruel._ Of course, there had been a twenty-five-year age gap between them, but there had also been a massive power dynamic gap. Why did this version of him, this boy fresh out of Hogwarts with a different name, feel so much more human than her elder master had felt? And why did he find her _beautifully __cruel?_

"We are the same age, you and I," Tom noted, moving a little closer to her. Bellatrix shut her eyes and nodded. Tom explained, "All the witches who flirted with me, who wanted me in my time… they are grown and married and gone now. Even Evangeline Avery, who asked me on a date the day I time traveled, grew up to marry her brother's best friend, Yaxley, and have three children."

"I'm sure this must all be profoundly strange for you," Bellatrix affirmed, looking up at him. He gazed down at her, and he shook his head.

"All of it is strange except for… you do not seem strange to me, Bellatrix. You seem…" He trailed off and then reached for her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and making her shiver. She breathed quickly through her nostrils as he moved a little closer and declared, "I enjoyed dinner with you, when you gave me information so I wouldn't make a fool of myself. I enjoyed dancing three dances in a row with you at the wedding. I very much enjoyed watching you torture and kill that Muggle woman today. You please me, Bellatrix."

Her eyes welled heavily. She pleased him? She made her master happy? She reached up to cover his hand with hers where he'd tucked her hair, and suddenly the two of them were holding hands. He brought their fingers down between them and stepped even closer, and he murmured,

"Rodolphus Lestrange kissed your forehead after dancing with you. I wonder, if I kiss your cheek, Bellatrix, what will I earn myself? A slap, or something different?"

"Do it," she whispered, and Tom bent down slowly. He pressed his lips to her cheekbone and held them there, and she felt a little quiver in his flesh. She reached up and snared her fingernails into his thick, wavy hair, and she heard him suck in a breath. Then, quite abruptly, his mouth was on hers.

He pushed his lips onto Bellatrix's - once, twice, three times. He licked carefully at her bottom lip as his hand laced around her back and pressed to the small of her back. Her own hands went to his chest, and she squeezed her fingers a little. He suckled on her lip and then used his tongue to pull hers into his mouth. Bellatrix groaned up against him and stumbled forward, trying to press her body onto his. He staggered backward until he hit the counter, and then Bellatrix felt the lump in his trousers against her belly. She ground up against him a bit and felt him hiss onto her mouth, and finally she broke away.

She made a move to grab her drink, swigging it down as she realised she'd just kissed her master. _She_ _had just kissed her master._ Bellatrix was dizzy and weak as that sank in, and she heard Tom's breathless voice from behind her mutter,

"Bloody hell, Bellatrix. Between the Curses and this, you certainly know how to leave a wizard wanting more."

"I'll give you whatever you want, Master." Bellatrix turned from her drink, and his face fell. He shook his head.

"That isn't what I… I didn't… erm… listen. I am - obviously - quite attracted to you. But I think it best if things proceed with caution. The last thing I can afford as a time traveling Dark Lord are mistakes like this."

Mistakes like these. Her heart fell, but he threw his hands up and stammered,

"Not that this… this was not a mistake. I mean to say that taking things further might become a… I am being clumsy."

He huffed a breath, and Bellatrix licked her lip.

"I should go," she nodded, and Tom shrugged.

"Probably."

"Thank you for the cucumber Collins, most expertly made," she said, heading for the doorway, "and thank you for allowing me to show you my Cruciatus -"

She stopped then, for her wrist had been seized and she'd been turned around. She raised her brows at Tom, who kissed her forehead carefully and whispered,

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, My Lord," Bellatrix said in a quiet voice, waiting for him to release her so that she could Disapparate out of his home.

**Author's Note: Oh, he's got it bad. But he's messy as all get-out with a girl. Hard to remember he's still a clumsy teenager. Ha. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**


	5. Alliances

Tom Riddle lay in his plush white bed in the flat in Knightsbridge. He stared at his ceiling, his hands folded on his stomach. His mind was trained firmly on Bellatrix Black.

She differed from the girls who had flirted with him at school and at work, he thought. She was nothing like the vapid, giggling witches who had chased after Tom Riddle during his time as Head Boy and his tenure at Borgin and Burkes. No. Bellatrix Black was remarkably skilled. She was vicious and merciless. She was charming and beautiful. Most impressively, she was loyal to Lord Voldemort.

Tom's fingers wormed their way down against the front of his pyjama trousers. He drew his fingers back and forth, and beneath his touch, his cock grew just a little hard. Tom shut his eyes and remembered dancing with Bellatrix Black at the Malfoy-Selwyn wedding. She'd felt so small in his arms, so slim and smooth and wondrous. He'd stared into her wide, dark eyes for song after song, speaking quietly with her. Tom's fingers traced the outline of his cock in his trouser material as he thought about those dances. He thought about the way she'd looked in shimmering black material that hugged her body. He thought about the way stray curls had fallen around her face. He groaned a little.

Then he remembered kissing her. He remembered licking her lip, suckling on her tongue, pulling it into his mouth, tasting gin and cucumber on her. He remembered the way they'd staggered to the counter, the way she'd pushed herself against his body. Tom's breath quickened as his hand crept into the waistband of his pyjama trousers. His slid his hand down and circled his fingers round his erection, pumping his hand as his back arched. He touched himself harder then as he realised he craved more of her. She'd made him hard when she'd tortured and killed, and now she was driving him insane with want.

He wanted to squeeze at those small, round breasts she had. He wanted to put his fingers between her legs. She wanted to see him powerful; she wanted to see him have everything he wanted in his life. And that was the most powerful aphrodisiac on Earth, Tom reckoned. He wanted to taste her again. He wanted to watch her torture and kill again. He wanted to touch her…

He gasped and tightened his hand around the base of his cock. Suddenly he was coming hard, in bursts that landed all over his bare stomach. He seethed through clenched teeth as his come puddled on his skin. He wrenched his eyes more tightly shut than ever and whispered in a frantic breath,

"Bellatrix…"

Tom lay there with his own come all over his stomach, panting. He shut his eyes and wondered what to do. He had never _wanted_ a witch like this. Witches had always been pesky annoyances. Some had been pretty, but he'd never really _wanted_ them. He wanted Bellatrix. Oh, he wanted Bellatrix. What was he meant to do about that? What was he meant to do about her?

He reached with a shaking hand for his wand and aimed it at his filthy stomach. He Scoured his skin of all the come there, and he set his wand back down. He collapsed onto his back and dragged his fingers through his hair, shutting his eyes again and gulping. He thought of her face, of her taste, of the feel of dancing with her. He thought of her casting the Cruciatus Curse, the Killing Curse.

He wondered what she was doing right this moment.

He whispered her name rather helplessly, and he wondered if he had been this big a fool as a middle-aged man. Would he outgrow childish desires like these? Would he outgrow wanting Bellatrix?

The next morning, he went to Malfoy Manor, for he had a meeting scheduled with Cygnus Black III - Bellatrix's father. Of course, Tom Riddle knew Cygnus best as the slightly younger Slytherin boy who had always been obsessed with money. This meeting was meant to discuss Tom's finances, or, rather, the finances of Lord Voldemort's movement.

"Enter," Tom called when there was knocking on his office door. Pudgy, balding Cygnus Black came walking inside and bowed his head respectfully.

"Sir," he said, though, like the others, he still seemed profoundly uncomfortable addressing his old schoolmate so reverently. He sat down in the chair opposite Tom and pulled out a leather folio. He placed it on the desk and asked, "May I begin, sir?"

"Please." Tom folded his hands on the desk, and Cygnus opened the folio.

"You currently have sixteen monthly donors, whose donations total two thousand, four hundred Galleons. Of that, approximately one thousand is used to pay allied business owners and spies. Another thousand is for your personal use, and four hundred per month goes into the movement's Gringotts account for sundry expenses."

"How healthy is that Gringotts account at present? Do I really need a thousand a month? That seems excessive," Tom said, and Cygnus' face reddened a little.

"Fine robes, expensive food fetched by your House-Elf, the best wines… you've favoured a luxurious lifestyle for several years. I leave it entirely to your discretion, sir, what your monthly needs are. The movement's account also receives in-kind donations one at a time, and so it is quite healthy. The balance as of this morning was eighteen thousand, two hundred, sixteen Galleons."

"I shall notify you after a month or two whether I actually need a thousand Galleons to live on," Tom said. "I suspect that I do not. I would prefer to put more of that money into the movement's petty cash."

"Very good, sir. As you wish. Obviously, as the movement grows, our expenses for allies and spies will grow. But our income from extortion and donations will also increase. It is entirely your decision regarding your income. I will make no changes until you direct me."

"And how much oversight does the Ministry have on all of this?" Tom asked, his voice laced with scepticism.

"Oh." Cygnus choked a laugh and shook his head. "I have a superb working relationship with the goblins at Gringotts, My Lord. They allow me to file all of these accounts under pseudonyms. So, the Ministry would have a very difficult time getting its hands on your money. Rest assured, your funds are safe."

"Good. All of this pleases me greatly," Tom smirked. He tapped his fingers together and watched as Cygnus started packing up his leather folio. Cygnus asked,

"Is there anything else, sir?"

"In a grand hurry to leave, Cygnus?" Tom raised his brows, and Cygnus demurred.

"I am meeting with Rudy Lestrange."

"Rudy Lestrange." Tom felt cold suddenly. He frowned. Cygnus nodded, an innocent look on his face.

"Rudy asked to meet with me today, though I've no idea about what."

"Bellatrix," Tom said quietly. "It's about Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix?" Cygnus' greying brows knit together. "About her and… and one of Rudy's boys?"

Tom shut his eyes and felt ill. "Rodolphus."

"Oh, but that's marvelous!" Cygnus exclaimed. He clapped his hands together, jarring Tom, who scowled. Cygnus grinned broadly. "Oh, that's wondrous. What a perfect match. We'll get a contract drawn up straight away!"

"A contract!" Tom was aghast. Cygnus' wild smile faltered, and he explained in a calmer tone,

"Yes, sir. Rudy and I shall sign papers at once on the matter. Today, I should hope."

"Without even asking Bellatrix?" Tom narrowed his eyes, but Cygnus looked surprised at the umbrage.

"I'm sure she'll be very pleased, My Lord. This is a fantastic option for her."

"What if she does not wish to marry?" Tom shrugged, and Cygnus looked befuddled.

"We'll find someone who makes her happy enough to -"

"What if she does not wish to marry at all?" Tom snapped, and Cygnus threw up his eyebrows.

"Erm… well… she _must_ marry, sir. She is a young witch of the House of Black. She simply must find a good match and marry and carry on our line. It is her sacred duty, the duty of her blood."

"I dislike this." Tom pinched his lips, clenching his hands together on the desk. Cygnus seemed mildly offended, and he shook his head.

"I suppose Rudy and I can delay things, or we can find her someone more to your liking, My Lord, if you -"

"I want her unmarried," Tom barked sharply, and Cygnus appeared so confused he seemed he would burst at any moment. He finally shrugged and nodded, but his face gave him away. Tom licked his lip and noted, "You are cross."

"I am… baffled, sir," Cygnus admitted, and Tom sniffed. He rose from his desk chair and stalked quickly toward the door.

"You can tell Rudy Lestrange to find someone else for Rodolphus. Or not. I don't care. I require that Bellatrix remain unwed. This is my final word on the matter. Question me on it and you'll see a flash of green and nothing more. Am I distinctly understood, Cygnus? Good day."

Cygnus timidly pulled himself from his chair and moved toward the door, tucking his leather folio full of financial data under his arm. He bowed his head as he passed by Tom Riddle, and he mumbled,

"Perfectly understood. Good day, My Lord."

* * *

Bellatrix huffed a breath as she stood in the Rococo corridor and raised her fist to the door. She shouldn't be here, she thought. She had not been invited here. She was trespassing. She was an unwanted invader. But she knocked firmly four times and sucked in a breath, shutting her eyes and feeling her heart accelerate.

When the door swung open, she opened her eyes to see Tom Riddle standing before her in a hunter green velvet dressing gown and what appeared to be dark blue flannel pyjamas. She gasped a little. It wasn't _that_ late, was it? Eight o'clock, perhaps. Had he already gotten dressed for the evening? She turned away and stammered,

"F-Forgive me, Master; I should not have come, and I didn't… I did not expect… I am so sorry."

"Please come in." Tom spoke with supreme calm, and Bellatrix's mortification grew within her. She chomped her lip hard as she followed her master into his home. He explained simply, "I took an early bath tonight to relax, and I figured I'd go ahead and put pyjamas on afterward. I apologise for being unkempt at such an early hour."

"I should not have come to your home, especially without an invitation," Bellatrix moaned, touching at her head. But as he gestured for Bellatrix to sit opposite him on the cream-coloured leather furniture in the sitting room, Tom smiled a little and said,

"I assume you have come because your father was upset over the meeting he and I had earlier today."

"Yes." Bellatrix nodded, letting out a shaking breath. "He is confused, and frankly a bit distraught, because I am his eldest daughter and he does not know what to make of your orders. He can fathom the idea that perhaps Rodolphus is not the right match, but the idea that his eldest daughter go entirely unwed makes him squirm with unease. It has been a difficult day at home."

"Have you come to ask me whether you may marry Rodolphus?" Tom drummed his fingers on the arm of his leather chair. Bellatrix shook her head quickly.

"No, Master. I would never, ever question your orders. Not ever."

"Then why are you here?" Tom narrowed his eyes at her, and Bellatrix realised she did not have a very good answer to that question. She finally choked out an awkward little laugh and shrugged.

"I don't really know."

"As it happens," Tom said in a soft tone, "I believe I have a solution that will make just about everybody relatively happy… perhaps not Rudy and Rodolphus, but, oh well."

Bellatrix furrowed her brows, shaking her head a little. Tom dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and informed her,

"Avery suggested to me that I should marry his daughter, Alivia."

Bellatrix's stomach ached, and she looked away a bit. She nodded.

"Alivia. She's quite pretty. Pureblood. She'd make a fine wife."

"So she would." Tom sounded thoughtful. "Of course, the me that disappeared from this time had never married at all. But I am here and young, and it seems prudent to marry. It is quite likely that I never married at least in part because I was a powerless Half-Blood."

Bellatrix sighed. That made sense. If the penniless, aspirational Tom Riddle had chased a Pureblood bride before having followers or power, he'd have been out of luck. And he wouldn't have accepted a Half-Blood or Mudblood bride. Not with the movement he wanted to build. And, anyway, he probably needed to climb alone, that first time.

"Now, it seems that forging alliances with the Sacred Twenty-Eight seems wise," Tom noted. "Marriage is an easy and intelligent means of doing so. Alivia Avery is connected, for example, to the Yaxley, Mulciber, Crabbe, Rosier, and Selwyn families within two generations."

Bellatrix felt like she was going to vomit. Why did it make her feel so unwell to contemplate Alivia Avery in Tom Riddle's bed as his wife? She shut her eyes and shook her head a little. Tom huffed a breath.

"I want to watch you cast Cruciatus Curses for years to come, Bellatrix."

She stared at him then, curling up half her mouth and trying not to laugh. She finally asked,

"Why is that the most dreadfully attractive thing anyone has ever said to me?"

He grinned. "You were very attractive doing it. And killing her, too. You were beautiful killing her. And you were beautiful dancing in my arms, and kissing you was…"

He trailed off then, and his smile faded a little. Bellatrix wanted him then, so badly she could hardly stand it. She wanted to go sit on his lap and kiss him with her arms threaded around him. She wanted to move atop his lap and feel his firmness the way she'd felt it when they'd kissed.

"Bellatrix," Tom said, and she jarred to attention. He cleared his throat and stared straight at her, and he said simply, "Marry me."

"I'm sorry; what?" Bellatrix felt like there was a lump moving from her chest to her throat all of a sudden, and she was remarkably dizzy.

"I do not wish to marry Alivia Avery; I would much prefer to marry you," said Tom Riddle plainly. Bellatrix just gaped. He continued in a very calm voice, "It would suit me to have a bride of the highest calibre, and you certainly fit that mould. You, for your part, must _do your duty_ as a witch in the House of Black, and marry a prestigious husband. I should think the Dark Lord himself qualifies as prestigious, even in my younger form."

"Master…" Bellatrix couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Tom barreled onward,

"We needn't reproduce any time soon; we're entirely too young for such nonsense and it's nobody's business what contraceptive spells and potions are used in a marriage, anyway. You would be fulfilling your apparent obligation as an elite Pureblood witch by securing an impressive husband. I would be forging alliances with many of the most important families that follow me, and also behaving in the manner expected of a wizard my age. Everybody wins. Except for the Lestranges, but I shall suggest that Alivia and Rodolphus wed."

"Alivia and Rodolphus." Bellatrix was utterly bereft of her senses. She swayed a bit where she sat, and she murmured, "Is this my actual life, what's happening right now?"

"I assure you it is." Tom rose slowly from his chair, and Bellatrix respectfully got to her feet, her legs shaking beneath her. She stared up at Tom as he approached, and he smirked down at her a little. "I haven't got a ring; this entire wild scheme rather cemented itself when I was in the bath a while ago."

"I see." Bellatrix shook her head and shrugged. "I don't need a ring. Master."

He reached for her left hand and studied her fingers.

"Black, cold metal," he suggested, "with a solitary white diamond."

Bellatrix thought she was going to faint. Her _master_ was musing over what sort of engagement ring he was going to procure for her? Just days earlier, she'd been trying to convince herself that she could live with a future as Rodolphus Lestrange's wife. Now Tom Riddle - handsome, eighteen-year-old Tom Riddle - was suggesting a mutually advantageous union to her? She simply could not breathe.

"You haven't answered," he noted, still staring at her hand. Bellatrix watched the way his thumb dragged over her knuckles, and she answered with a shake,

"Yes. Of course. A thousand times over, yes."

"Good. Thank you." Tom took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes so deeply that her stomach quivered. He laughed a little and nodded. "Now we just have to tell your father… and everyone else."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to answer, but he swallowed up her speech with a kiss, and she was utterly lost to him.

**Author's Note: Oh, my. Pureblood society seems so very feudal and medieval ****to me that ****it ****does seem** **like all of their marriages would be ****advantageous****, alliance-style moves. So ****surely ****Tom's not wrong to want one of his own as he's trying to cement his power in his young form. And it's a way for him to steal Bellatrix for his own, too. So it's a definite possessive power move on his part. What do you guys think — how will Pureblood society react to this? Thanks for reading and a huge thank you for reviewing.**


	6. Reports

"_TOM RIDDLE TRAVELS THROUGH TIME!_" Bellatrix jarred as she saw the headline of her father's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ at the breakfast table. She gulped and asked,

"Father, may I see the front page?"

"Oh, yes. They did an entire write-up on him. Here. See for yourself." Cygnus Black handed the first sheet of newspaper to his daughter, and she folded it as she began to read.

"_It has come to the attention of the reporting staff at The Daily Prophet that the man widely known as Lord Voldemort vanished without a trace several weeks ago. Infamous for his fledgling movement espousing so-called Pureblood Politics, Lord Voldemort has a posse of close followers and a wider circle of admirers. Everyone, whether they like him or not, know that this man once called himself by his birth name - Tom Riddle._

_Imagine, then, the surprise of all when eighteen-year-old Tom Riddle accidentally time traveled from 1945 and appeared here in 1970. Slipping seamlessly into the place of his disappeared elder self, Tom Riddle has been cavorting with __wizarding_ _high society in ways his younger self never had the opportunity to do. Rumour has it that he holds meetings in his office at Malfoy Manor, that he lives in a ritzy flat in Knightsbridge, and that he danced with the most elite witches at a recent wedding._

_When asked for his opinion on this shocking development, Hogwarts Headmaster and __Wizengamot_ _member Albus Dumbledore gave a measured response._

'_I can only hope' he said, 'that Tom will use this opportunity to amend the egregiously discriminatory talk his elder self had begun to speak more and more loudly. I can only hope that Tom will see this as a chance to start his movement anew and use his movement for good. I hope he finds happiness. I hope he gives happiness. I hope that he is good here, in this time, as the chances of moving him back to 1945 are very slim indeed. I welcome him forward into our timeline and I sincerely and fervently hope with all of my might that Mr Riddle makes good use of his presence here.'"_

Bellatrix set down the newspaper and cleared her throat.

"Well, of _course_ Dumbledore had something to say on the matter," she scoffed. "Of course Dumbledore had to get sanctimonious and ridiculous."

"They were discussing The Dark Lord on the Wizarding Wireless earlier this morning," Narcissa piped up. "They were saying that such large jumps in time were dangerous and illegal, and that nobody could be certain what had happened to bring about his time travel. They interviewed a Ministry official, a witch who said that the Ministry would be carefully monitoring him."

"Well, I've got a meeting with him," Cygnus Black said. "He's asked me to come to his office after breakfast for a meeting. No idea why. Perhaps he's worried I'm still upset about the meeting we had yesterday. Of course, it's his decision if you don't marry, Bellatrix, but I still have the right to be shocked about it. It's a lot to process, the idea that my eldest daughter is to remain unwed when such a viable and perfectly suitable option exists for her."

"Why don't you just meet with him and see what he wants?" Bellatrix suggested. Her stomach fluttered a little, and her parents both eyed her a bit strangely. She gave her father a solemn look and repeated, "Just see what he wants."

* * *

"Cygnus. Do come in." Tom gestured for Cygnus to enter his office, and he shut the door behind the man. He sighed as he realised that, not so very long ago, Cygnus Black had been a few years younger than Tom Riddle, a boy still enroled at Hogwarts whilst Tom had just graduated. Cygnus and Druella hadn't even been married yet when Tom had traveled out of 1945.

Cygnus sat in the chair opposite Tom's, and as Tom sank down, he studied the man Cygnus had become. Wrinkled, balding, fat. Aged. Tom had been informed that his own appearance in his forties had meant a drooping eye, waxy skin, scars, and a much bulkier build. Time, it seemed, was unkind. But for now, Tom was eighteen and slim and handsome. And Cygnus' daughter was… everything.

"Cygnus," Tom began, feeling abruptly nervous and swallowing past a lump in his throat, "you and I parted company on poor terms yesterday."

"I do apologise if I was in any way disrespectful," Cygnus said. "I was merely surprised by your decision about Bellatrix."

"I have made a different decision regarding Bellatrix," Tom said carefully, and Cygnus' greying brows knit together. He shook his head.

"How do you mean, My Lord?"

Tom folded his hands on the table and said in a slow, deliberate voice,

"As you rightfully pointed out yesterday, Bellatrix is a member of the prestigious House of Black. Her mother is a Rosier. It is entirely expected of her that she will find an impressive husband and marry at a young age."

"Right." Cygnus shifted where he sat, seeming anxious. Tom continued,

"The last time I was eighteen, I was a Half-Blood with no money or power. That is not true this time round; I have all sorts of money, and all sorts of power. All sorts of prestige. And it would behoove me, as a stranded young time traveler, to cement my position by allying myself with Houses of the Sacred Twenty-Eight through a solid bond."

"A bond like marriage." Cygnus stared at Tom in disbelief, but Tom let out a long sigh.

"Avery offered me his daughter Alivia. This signals to me that Purebloods are amenable to the idea of me marrying into the crowd. I would much prefer Bellatrix over Alivia; I find Bellatrix more attractive, more intelligent, more magically impressive, and more charming."

"Th-Thank you, sir," Cygnus nodded, and Tom smiled just a little as he said in a quieter voice,

"I would tell you that I would take very good care of her, Cygnus, but I think we both know that Bellatrix takes care of herself perfectly well. Just the same, I would be gentle with her, and affectionate, and see to it that she had everything she wanted or needed."

Cygnus' eyes welled a little, and he blinked quickly. "Are you asking me, or telling me?"

"I am informing you of your daughter's happy engagement," Tom said lightly, "and wondering about your reaction."

"My reaction?" Cygnus gnawed his lip and shrugged. "My Lord, my reaction is… I am… very surprised. And… honoured. I am honoured. I am completely gobsmacked that you would choose my daughter over others. I am a bit frightened for you both, with the Ministry watching you so closely, with Dumbledore's negative reaction to your arrival in this time. I am fearful of what her future might hold as the wife of the Dark Lord, but -"

"She is already a Death Eater who carries out the most egregious Unforgivables on my behalf," Tom spat, and Cygnus' mouth fell open. He nodded quickly and whispered,

"You're right, of course. There could be nothing better for her than to be with you."

"There it is." Tom nodded. "There could be nothing better for her than to be with me. Thank you."

"Will the wedding be small and private?" Cygnus asked, "or shall it be -"

"A grand occasion? I'd prefer the latter. This marriage is intended to solidify my position atop the most elite wizarding society. We will require a hell of a party, Cygnus. Perhaps at Druella's family home, Castle Rosier? They've certainly got the space for a lovely autumn fete."

"Yes. Yes, I think Druella and her parents would be wonderfully amenable to that idea." Cygnus sounded a bit breathless and looked a bit dizzy. He worked his fingers together in his lap and offered, "I shall pay for the wedding, of course."

"Oh, that's very generous of you," Tom nodded. "Thank you."

Cygnus licked his lip and offered, "May I suggest that Rodolphus and Alivia might be a good match, sir?"

"I have already spoken with Rudy about it," Tom said smoothly. "Thank you for your concern. You may go; I'm sure you have much to discuss with Druella. When you see Bellatrix, send her here, will you? I have something to give her."

"Yes, sir. Yes, Master." Cygnus scrambled to his feet and seemed to be processing the idea that he was going to be Tom Riddle's - _Lord Voldemort's_ \- father-in-law. He pinched his lips and stumbled toward the door, and after Tom saw him out, he shut the door and grinned broadly, feeling a great sense of accomplished satisfaction.

A half hour later, there was another knock on his office door, and Tom rushed to open it. He flung the door open and saw Bellatrix standing there, smiling weakly up at him. He stood aside, and she walked in, and she giggled a little.

"My father came home looking like he'd seen a ghost," she laughed. "When he and I informed my mother, she practically fainted. But the wedding is to be at Castle Rosier. My mother insisted it must be October - not too cold, but enough time to plan something. She started immediately worrying over things like my dress and the flowers and the food."

"Well, good. I want it to be nice." Tom scratched at his hair and reached for Bellatrix's left hand. He delved his fingers into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the ring inside. He pushed it onto Bellatrix's fourth finger and listened to her gasp. He stared at the ring and decided at once that it was perfect for her. It was shiny black titanium that wrapped around her finger in a spiral, holding a square diamond with tension. It was an aggressive-looking ring, barely feminine, and yet it was absolutely perfect for her.

"What do you think?" he murmured, and Bellatrix said nothing. Worried, Tom raised his eyes to see that a lone tear was worming its way down Bellatrix's cheek. She stared at him and whispered,

"How did you know?"

"How did I know what?" He was tempted, suddenly to pry into her mind with Legilimency. He was curious about what he'd find just now. But he gave her privacy, for some reason. Instead of barging into her head, he used his thumb to sweep away her tear, and he shrugged as he asked again, "How did I know what?"

"How did you know that I wouldn't like some frilly gold ring with loads of round diamonds?" Bellatrix asked. "How did you know to get me a ring like this? You hardly know me. We've barely…"

"I think a witch who looked as beautiful casting the Cruciatus Curse as you did deserves dark metal and a diamond held up by tension," Tom said seriously. "Do you like your engagement ring, Bellatrix?"

"I adore it." She looked like she wanted to throw her arms around him, and something within him wanted to encourage that. Instead he just took her face in his hands and kissed her carefully, delicately. He admitted against her lips,

"You make me want more."

"You should take what you want," Bellatrix hummed, and Tom felt himself come alive then. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her harder, backing her up against a wall. He started to press himself against her, grinding his hardening cock against her belly as she whispered onto his lips,

"Please. Take what you want."

"Bellatrix." Tom reached up and squeezed at her breast, groaning at the way she was soft under his touch. He caressed her there, exploring the size and shape of her chest, and his other hand held her waist. He kissed her so hard his lips felt bruised, and when she dared to suck on his tongue, he drove his hips against her and thought he'd come in his trousers.

Then, very suddenly, there was knocking on his office door, and Tom ripped himself away from Bellatrix. He stumbled backward a few steps and swiped at his mouth with his wrist. She panted against the wall, staring at the door, and hissed,

"Have you got a meeting?"

"It's… I'd forgotten… It's Mulciber to discuss his new Ministry position." Tom shut his eyes and hissed out a frustrated breath. He called loudly, "One moment!"

"Thank you for the ring, Master. I'll see you again sometime soon?" Bellatrix sounded uncertain, and he swept her up into his arms and kissed her mouth swiftly. He touched his forehead to hers and craved her so badly he could hardly think.

"Come to my flat tonight," he instructed her, "for dinner."

She grinned and nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

He walked with her to the door, and when he opened it, tall, thin Mulciber was staring expectantly at him. He nodded and shooed Bellatrix out, muttering,

"Good day, Miss Black. Do come in, Mulciber."

**Author's Note: A lot to unpack here! Dumbledore is aware of the time travel and **_**has opinions.**_ **The Ministry is closely monitoring the situation. Cygnus Black has feelings about the marriage. Bellatrix and Tom are going to have **_**dinner**_ **(and something else?) Yeah, who thinks there might be a nice dessert after dinner? ****Mwah** **hahaha****. Thank you so much for reading. I would absolutely love to know your thoughts.**


	7. Eager

Bellatrix paced in the elegant corridor, entirely too anxious to knock on Tom Riddle's door. She shut her eyes tightly and leaned with one hand on the plaster wall, wondering if she looked all right. She'd worn a knee-length black velvet dress with high-heeled black shoes, and she'd used Sleekeazy's on her long, loose curls to tame them just a little. She'd sealed up her makeup with spells to keep it from smudging, for she was terrified of winding up with red lipstick smeared across her face at dinner. Now she breathed quickly as she gripped the bottle of wine she'd brought, and she used her thumb to move her black titanium engagement ring around on her finger.

Suddenly, she heard a door creak, and her eyes sprang open. She gasped as she saw Tom Riddle standing in his doorway, smirking out at her, wearing a white dress shirt with a black tie and black waistcoat, apparently having removed his outer robe. He'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, too. She felt overdressed, all of a sudden, and she gripped the bottle of wine more tightly. She stepped up to him and nodded.

"Hullo, My Lord."

"I felt the pulse of your mind out here," he said simply, and she remembered then that he was a Legilimens. She felt a bit uncomfortable, knowing he could see straight into her mind, because right now she was thinking that he was insanely handsome and ridiculously desirable. She held out the bottle of wine to him, thrusting it forward, and said a bit awkwardly,

"I know you've got an entire cupboard full of bottles, but I felt wrong not bringing something, so… it's a Rioja made by Spanish elves. I hope it'll do."

"Oh. This is lovely." Tom took the wine and smiled down at the bottle. "It'll pair beautifully with the lamb I've ordered up for us."

"Lamb." Bellatrix grinned, and Tom noted,

"Your face has lit up."

"Lamb is my favourite," Bellatrix confessed, and Tom blinked a few times.

"Is it really? Well, that's lucky. Erm… do come in out of the corridor, won't you?"

"Oh. Sorry." Bellatrix followed him into the flat, and he shut the door behind her. She fiddled with her engagement ring, and she watched as Tom walked into the kitchen and set down the bottle of wine. He took out his wand and began casting charms to uncork it, and he asked,

"Does it fit all right?"

"Sorry?" Bellatrix was breathless and dizzy where she stood. Tom peered round the cupboards and clarified,

"Your ring. Does it fit all right?"

"Oh. Yes; it fits perfectly. Thank you." She stared down at it, at the black metal and the suspended square diamond, and she gulped. She would need to procure a wedding band for him. What sort would he like, she wondered? Platinum seemed like a good fit.

"I assume you and your mother spent the day planning," Tom predicted, and Bellatrix smiled to herself. She nodded as he poured two glasses of the rich red wine, and she said,

"Mum's got the dress all worked out in her head. She even sketched up her ideas so we can take them to Twillfit and Tattings. She says I've got to have Narcissa as my maid of honour, with my second cousins as little bridesmaids. And the flowers are to be plum calla lilies… an autumnal flavour, you understand."

Tom came striding round out of the kitchen with the two glasses of wine, and he moved to the dining room table. He set down the wine glasses and pulled out Bellatrix's chair for her. She sat, and he said in a quiet voice,

"I am surprised by how interested I am in the colour of the calla lilies, Bellatrix; I thought I would not care in the least."

"You're just pretending to care so that I'll shut up about them," Bellatrix laughed, but Tom shook his head and insisted,

"Plum flowers will be lovely. And we must serve lamb at the dinner."

Right on cue, their plates filled, thanks to House-Elf magic. Bellatrix marveled at Tom's elf's magnificent plating style. Her lamb chop, roasted potatoes, and pearl onions were arranged just so. Bellatrix carefully carved into her meat and took a bite, moaning softly at the taste. It was cooked perfectly, and when she sipped her wine, the pairing was divine. Tom stared at her, and then he cleared his throat and said,

"When I first met with Abraxas in this time, he made a point of telling me that you'd already killed five Muggles on your own. Do tell."

"Oh." Bellatrix grinned. "Well, there was the time I crashed two Muggle cars into one another and made it look like an accident, but the Ministry knew better. Two fatalities, two injuries. There was the time I burned down a Muggle cottage and made it look like an electrical fire… but the Ministry knew better. One fatality. And there were two captured Muggles whom I tortured and killed, just like you saw me do."

"All of this since you graduated school in June?" Tom sipped his red wine, and Bellatrix nodded as she took a bite of potato. She washed it down with some wine and said,

"Your older self kept me very busy. I think you recognised that I had… well, something of a powerful bloodlust. After that first mission with the automobiles, you seemed to realise you had a killer on your hands."

"Bella." Tom stared at his plate. She went wide-eyed. _Bella_. He'd never called her that. Not ever. Not as his older self, and not now that he was young and time-traveled. _Bella._ He shut his eyes for a moment and then asked, "What were things like between you and me?"

"Oh. Erm… well… I had only been serving you for a few months," she said. "You let me into your inner circle when I left Hogwarts because my father told you that I had gotten into all sorts of trouble at school for being cruel and unkind. You called me in for a meeting and asked me if I wanted to serve you. Of course I did, I said. I got down on my knees and begged you to accept me into your service. You put the Dark Mark on me that day."

Tom stared at his lamb as he sawed into it, and his cheeks pinked a little.

"Did we ever… were you and I ever… what I'm trying to ask is whether you and I were ever physical."

"What?" Bellatrix choked a little on the red wine she was drinking, and Tom glared at her. She shook her head and set her wine down. "I'm sorry. So sorry, Master. It's just… _no_. I never laid a finger on you. I hardly ever spoke alone with you, except to receive orders, and usually those were given at group meetings. I can't imagine you would have ever touched me."

"Then I was a fool," Tom said confidently. Bellatrix gave him a weak smile and shrugged.

"I was twenty-five years younger than you. Your slave. You couldn't be bothered with me."

"Well, I'm bothered with you now," Tom pronounced. "I'm engaged to marry you now."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix wondered suddenly whether she would be expected to call him _Tom_ in their wedding vows. They could discuss that at a later date, she reckoned.

"_I, Bellatrix, take you, Tom._"

She jolted, looking up to see that her affianced and master, the time-traveled teenaged Dark Lord, was staring right at her. He'd been in her head, she thought. He'd recited the vow she would use because he'd been using Legilimency. She winced a little at that thought, and he immediately touched his napkin to his lips and said,

"I apologise. I will leave your mind to you. You deserve privacy, even from me."

"It is your prerogative to look into my head," Bellatrix said, "because when I vowed loyalty to you, I swore my whole self… mind, body, and soul. I swore myself in my entirety to you for all time."

"Do you remember that day?" Tom asked, curiosity seeping through his voice. Bellatrix scoffed a bit and nodded.

"As if it were yesterday, My Lord."

"Would you show me? In your mind?" He huffed a breath. "I want to see myself with you then. I want to see you make that promise."

Bellatrix ate her last bite of lamb and nodded. Tom narrowed his eyes at her and whispered,

"_Legilimens__._"

The force of his invasion was stronger than the easy mind-reading he'd been doing earlier. Now she felt him combing through memories, pushing and pulling through scenes of her tormenting a Hufflepuff enemy, yelling at Andromeda, crashing together the Muggle cars. Finally he settled on the imagery of Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix in Voldemort's office on that day in June.

_Voldemort was tall, broad, waxy-skinned with a drooping eye and a thick scarred gash near his ear. He might have been handsome, once upon a time, but something had __happened to change_ _that. Now he was terrifying. Bellatrix kneeled on the floor in the __centre of the office_ _as Voldemort pulled out his yew wand. He reached for her left arm and said in a hissing __sort of __voice,_

'_If you promise yourself __to me __today, Bellatrix, you promise yourself __to me __forever.'_

'_There could be no greater joy, Master, than to belong to you for all eternity,' Bellatrix replied. Voldemort smirked and asked,_

'_Do_ _you, Bellatrix of the House of Black, swear to serve Lord Voldemort with your mind, body, and soul unto the death or worse? __Do_ _you vow to be my slave no matter what shall befall you? __Do_ _you promise to be mine and mine alone, in word and deed and thought… forever?'_

'_I promise all of this and more, Master,' Bellatrix said, feeling like she would cry. He touched his wand to her inner arm and __incanted smoothly__,_

'_Morsmordre__.'_

Tom pulled out of Bellatrix's mind and just stared at her. She stared back, her eyes meeting his dark ones as she contemplated the thought that she was going to marry this boy, her master. She was going to carry plum calla lilies down the aisle until she reached him and made vows where she called him _Tom_. She could not breathe, suddenly.

"Bella?" Tom's voice was strange and quiet then, and all she could do was silently nod in response. Tom glanced down at his plate and cleared his throat. "Have you finished eating?"

"Yes." Bellatrix whispered the word, desperate to touch him, to taste him. Tom rose from his chair and held his hand out to Bellatrix, and she put her fingers in his palm. She stood and let him lead her away from the table, through the sitting room and into a dark room. He pulled out his wand and illuminated the sconces on the walls in his bedroom, which they'd entered. Bellatrix's heart began to thunk in her chest as she realised the implications of being in here. Dangerous things happened in bedrooms.

"Have you ever…?" Tom licked his lip and glanced toward the bed. Bellatrix shook her head with nervous anticipation. No, she had never had sex. She had never even properly kissed anyone until that blistering kiss in Tom's kitchen.

"Have you?" she blurted. Tom's mouth dropped open, and he looked very embarrassed. His cheeks went red, and he blinked.

"Erm… no," he said at last. "I've done other things. Touching and the like, but… erm… not _that_, specifically."

"Well, we don't have to do that," Bellatrix pointed out. "We could wait until we're married to do that. It's what Purebloods are technically meant to do, anyway."

"I'm a Half-Blood," Tom smirked playfully, but then his smile faded and his throat bobbed. "Do you want to wait until we're married to do that?"

"Erm…" Bellatrix stared at the bed and remembered what her mother had told her about her first time with a wizard. She might bleed a little, or perhaps not, her mother had warned her. And as Bellatrix looked at Tom's bed, all she could think was how very _white_ the sheets and blankets were, and how very _red_ her blood would look on them. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she struggled to speak.

"They're easily Siphoned and Scoured," Tom mumbled, and Bellatrix gasped. Tom looked abashed and shrugged.

"Sorry. I was rather wondering what you were thinking. I shouldn't have pried."

Bellatrix scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. She chewed on her lip and cleared her throat.

"We probably ought to wait. It's the decent thing to do."

"Oh. Yes. Wouldn't want to be indecent." Tom raised his eyebrows and laughed a bit awkwardly. He stared at the bed and said in a quiet voice, "Thank you for coming to dinner."

"Thank you for having me. And letting me talk about plum calla lilies," Bellatrix replied. Tom gnawed hard upon his lip and said,

"Tell me something else you planned."

Bellatrix smiled a little. "Well, we're going to have an enchanted string quartet playing in the castle's Great Hall during the ceremony. The string quartet will continue to provide music during dinner, which will be hosted in the ballroom due to the number of guests. Then, for dancing, we shall have a chamber orchestra playing lovely dancing music."

"And we'll dance, you and I?" He stared up at her.

"All night, My Lord," Bellatrix assured him. He moved closer to her and threaded one hand around her until he was holding her near, touching her back. He took her hand in his, and she reached up to rest her hand on his shoulder. They swayed a little to music that wasn't there, and she smiled up at him. He bent down and kissed her lips carefully, and Bellatrix whispered,

"I want to be indecent with you."

"Do you?" Tom kept swaying with her in silence, his hand tightening around hers. His fingers clenched a little on her back, and she nodded as he kissed her again. This time, he pushed his tongue between her lips, and she gladly let him in. She stopped moving and just stood with him in a dancing stance, kissing him as they held hands, as he pulled her closer by her back and she squeezed at his shoulder. He finally released her hand and laced his fingers into her curls, touching her hair as if it were very delicate. He dragged his tongue along the roof of her mouth and suckled on her lip, and then he murmured onto her mouth,

"I'll be very clumsy but very careful. Promises on both fronts."

She giggled a bit and nodded, and he brushed his lips against hers as he started to pull her toward the bed. Bellatrix panicked all of a sudden. She was about to lose her virginity to her master. He might be young, and he might be a time traveler, but this was still, ultimately, Lord Voldemort, and she was about to have sex with him. She could not fathom the idea of it.

Beside the bed, the two of them started stripping clothes off of themselves, and they were indeed clumsy at it. He tangled her up in her dress trying to get her out of it. When she finally pulled it off her head, her curls poufed around her face. She struggled to be elegant in unclasping and removing her black lace bra and her high-waisted knickers. Then she stepped out of her shoes and was naked, and she was profoundly self-conscious. She had never deliberately been naked in front of someone else before, and as she covered up her breasts and the thatch of hair covering her sex, she felt her cheeks go hot.

"Mmph. Oh, you're beautiful." Tom ogled her, his own face going scarlet, and Bellatrix felt a little better given the strength of his reaction to her body. She watched his shaking hands struggle to loosen and remove his tie, and then his trembling fingers fought mightily against the buttons of his waistcoat and white dress shirt. He finally ripped it all off and tossed it aside, growling a little as he started work on the buttons of his trousers. Bellatrix gaped shamelessly at the way his trousers bulged with an erection, and when he slid the trousers and his underwear off, her eyebrows went up.

She wasn't sure how big men's cocks were meant to be, but surely this one was adequately sized. She'd seen images of penises in anatomical drawings, though she'd never beheld one in person. This one was long, thick, and visibly throbbing, with a purplish tip and a knot of dark hair at the base. Bellatrix gaped at it, and then she heard Tom clear his throat a little. She raised her eyes at last to his, and he licked his bottom lip.

"You can touch it, if you want to," he told her, and Bellatrix felt curiosity well within her. She also felt a warm, wet flush of desire settle between her legs. She knew the feeling well; she'd touched herself many times. She felt swollen and warm and damp as she closed the gap between herself and Tom. Her nipples were peaked and hard. Her body wanted him, she realised. She stared into his eyes and whispered,

"Show me, Master."

"Oh." He seemed to like hearing her call him that right now. Bellatrix made a mental note of that fact, and she held her hand out. He gently took hold of her fingers and guided them to the shaft of his cock, urging her to wrap her fingers around him. She made a mewling little sound of want as she felt that he was like velvet on stone. She stroked at him and worked her way up to the dewy tip. He hissed loudly and tipped his head back, snatching her wrist and ripping her hand away.

"I'm sorry; have I hurt you?" Bellatrix fretted, but Tom shook his head and insisted,

"No. We can't… if you touch me beforehand, it's not going to be very much fun."

"Why not?" Bellatrix felt confused. Tom's cheekbones went ruby again, and he sounded irritated as he confessed,

"I'll finish far too quickly. Let me touch you instead."

"Oh. Erm… perhaps on the bed?" Bellatrix suggested, and Tom pulled her wrist as he climbed up onto the bed. She followed him, up onto the plush white blankets, and they lay facing one another. She smiled a bit at him, and he reached between them as his lips parted. His fingers nestled between Bellatrix's legs, and she felt her eyes flutter shut. She moved onto her back, and he adjusted the way he was lying until he could pulse three fingers against her wet clit. Bellatrix tipped her head back and rolled her hips against his hand, gripping at the sheets and murmuring,

"I like that. That feels good."

"Good." Tom bent down and kissed Bellatrix's lips lightly. She hummed a moan as he slid his fingers around her folds, pressing around her entrance and thumbing at her clit. She was slowly bucking her pelvis up onto his hand now, both of them having established a rhythm. He spoke against her lips as he touched her.

"You swore yourself to me as a soldier, and you're going to vow yourself to me as a wife."

"Yes. Yes, Master." Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut and felt herself quickly climbing a peak. Her nipples were so hard they almost hurt, and as if he had been in her mind again, Tom put his left hand over a breast and began to drag his thumb over the erect nipple. Bellatrix whined into the kiss he gave her, and he deepened the touch of his fingers on her folds and clit. She whimpered, arching her back, bucking her hips up hard, and then he tore his mouth from hers and panted,

"I'm going to make you happy."

"You're… doing a fine job of that… right now," Bellatrix gasped. She snatched at his face and yanked him down for another kiss, and he groaned against her as he felt her walls snapping around his fingers. She came so hard she couldn't breathe or think. She was dizzy through the entire climax, her head spinning and her ears ringing. Her veins were hot with pleasure and her heart thrummed an almost violent tattoo. By the time the intense orgasm subsided, Bellatrix felt that a sheen of sweat had covered her forehead and chest, and she was flushed hot, breathless.

"I hate to rush things," she heard Tom saying, "but I should very much like to… you know..."

"Oh. Erm… yes, of course. But! Oh! Contraception," Bellatrix remembered, and she watched as Tom reached for his wand. His cock was so rigid and full now that it appeared to have grown considerably, and she marveled at the way it stood at attention. She licked her lip and wondered what it tasted like. Would he let her find out someday? Perhaps there was all manner of activity they could do together, she thought.

"_Nongravidare_ _Maxima,_" incanted Tom, aiming his wand at Bellatrix's lower abdomen. She mumbled her thanks as he set his wand back down, and she remembered the way the boys had giggled so ferociously at Hogwarts when the matron had taught them that spell. Now she parted her legs and felt very ready to receive her master, this time-traveling genius who would become a terrifying Dark Lord.

He knelt above her and aimed his member at her entrance, but he did not smile. He looked troubled, and suddenly he was gasping and twisting his facial features as though he were in terrible pain. Bellatrix pushed herself up onto her elbows and glanced down, and then she saw the problem. He was ejaculating all over her entrance, without ever having pushed into her.

"Shit." Tom hissed the profanity through clenched teeth, his face going so red it was almost purple. His flush spread down his neck, and he finally sat back on his haunches and smacked both hands up to his face, covering his eyes. His voice was muffled as he mumbled again, "Shit. I'm sorry."

"Well, it's my fault," Bellatrix suggested, staring down at the way she had come all over her vulva. She dragged a finger through it, curious about its texture, and mused, "I got you too worked up, probably, touching you and then you touching me, and -"

"I was fine until I was… it was just the anticipation. I'll be fine next time. I'm sorry." Tom reached for his wand and nonverbally Siphoned and Scoured the mess he'd made all over Bellatrix. She sat up slowly at gave him a shy smile, and she climbed off of the bed. She began to dress, but Tom demanded,

"What are you doing?"

"I'm… getting dressed, Master." Bellatrix froze with her bra and knickers on, and he twirled his wand as he shrugged.

"You don't want or need anything else?"

She couldn't help smirking, remembering how powerful her climax had been, and she said, "You took _very_ good care of me, Master; I almost feel guilty. Almost."

"Hmm." He dressed in silence, and as she slid her shoes on and he tightened his tie, he finally said, "I really am sorry. I've made a bit of a fool of myself. You must think your marriage is really in for it, but I promise I'll get better at… that."

"It's perfectly fine, Master," Bellatrix assured him. "I'd much rather you be overenthusiastic than uninterested. I'm sure that issue will work itself out. There's no need to dwell on it. The lamb was delicious. Would you prefer a white calla lily or a plum one for your boutonniere at the wedding?"

He stared at her, half his mouth curling up, and he shrugged one shoulder.

"White, probably, with formal tuxedo robes, don't you think?"

"Yes, I think that will look more formal," Bellatrix agreed. He huffed a breath and glanced at the door, and he noted,

"You're dressed, and we've had dinner and we've been physical, so you're probably going to go home now."

Bellatrix said nothing. She wasn't sure what he wanted her to say. She had indeed been getting ready to leave. He stepped closer to her and cupped her face in his hand. He brushed his lips against hers and said,

"Evenings in pyjamas, both of us curled up with books in the sitting room, sipping wine or tea. You taking a long bath after a day attacking Muggles. Me kissing you in our bed after a day of meetings. I want those nights, Bella."

"And you shall have them," Bellatrix whispered, reaching up to scratch at his hair a little. "Goodnight, Master."

He kissed her lips more deeply then, and she could feel the weight of his lingering apology in the kiss.

"Goodnight."

**Author's Note: ****Awww****, poor Tom got the jitters, so neither one of them ****actually ****lost their virginity. Whoops. But it was still kinda cute and sexy, no? ****Of course, nothing** **I write can stay adorable and happy for too long. So, what do you think ****is going to** **spring up to cause trouble for Tom? Death Eaters? The Ministry? Dumbledore? Something else? Let me know what you think!**


	8. Traitor

Tom blinked his eyes open to the sound of clicking. He glanced over to his bedroom window and frowned; there was an owl outside his bedroom window pestering to be let in. Tom hustled out of bed and dashed over to the window, peeling it open and letting the bird hop inside. He plucked the envelope from its beak and raised his eyebrows when he saw the Ministry seal keeping it shut. He broke the seal as the owl fluttered back out through the window and flew away, and Tom pulled out the letter from the envelope. He scowled as he began to read.

_Dear Mr Riddle:_

_You will report at nine o'clock this morning to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for questioning. Use the visitors' entrance at the abandoned phone booth. Dial "MAGIC."_

_Matilda Beaulieu_

That was all it said. Tom frowned quite deeply as he glanced at his clock on the wall. Eight o'clock. He needed to hurry and get ready and get over to the Ministry of Magic if he was to make a nine o'clock appointment. He rushed to take a hurried, hot shower, washing his thick black hair and rinsing it as quickly as he could. He shaved, though he barely grew any facial hair, and he scrubbed his teeth. He dressed in clean, dark robes with a neat tie and shirt. He skipped breakfast, deciding he simply didn't have time for it, and he Disapparated out of his flat, coming to at the abandoned telephone booth that he'd heard served as the visitors' entrance to the Ministry of Magic these days.

_Dial "MAGIC," _the letter had said. Tom frowned and stepped into the phone booth, and he picked up the receiver. He slowly used the rotary dial to phone in the letters that would spell out the word. 6-2-4-4-2. M-A-G-I-C. The floor began to slowly move beneath Tom's feet, and he grappled at the walls for purchase as he realised he was being transported. Eventually, after a long downward journey, he found himself with a door opening before him, and as he stepped out, he looked around to see the shiny dark-tiled Atrium of the British Ministry of Magic.

Tom moved out of the telephone booth and out into the vast expanse of the Atrium, which was bustling with witches and wizards going about all sorts of business. As soon as people saw him, they began to whisper and stare.

_There's Tom Riddle!_

_Isn't that Tom Riddle?_

He ignored their gossip and their ogling, and he kept his eyes trained straight ahead on the bank of shiny metallic lifts. He had a meeting to attend. But then he heard a very familiar voice call his name.

"Tom."

He whirled at the sound of Albus Dumbledore's voice and glared as the lavender-robed wizard came stalking toward him. Dumbledore smirked a bit playfully and shrugged.

"How strange and yet a little wonderful to see you young again, Tom."

"I would have thought you'd be at Hogwarts, _Professor_," Tom spat, "seeing as the students go back tomorrow."

"Ah. Indeed they do. I have a brief meeting with the Minister of Magic today on that very subject. Discussing plans for the upcoming year and the like. What are your plans for the coming months, Tom?" Dumbledore's voice was irritatingly calm. Tom narrowed his eyes and shrugged one shoulder.

"I mean to reconnect with old school friends."

"I do hope you will use your immense potential and powerful intellect for good in this time, Tom," Dumbledore scolded gently. Tom scoffed a little and nodded.

"I will be a supreme force for powerful change in the wizarding world, sir. Rest assured of that."

Dumbledore did not seem convinced at all. He tipped his head and licked his bottom lip, and he said in a quiet voice,

"I worry. I hope you prove me wrong."

"Right this moment, I am on the verge of being late for an important meeting," Tom said sharply. "So, whilst I hate to be rude, sir, I really must be going."

"Of course. I, too, have a meeting to attend. Farewell, Tom. Until we meet again."

"Yes." Tom turned on the ball of his foot and strode off, walking with brisk and anxious steps toward the bank of lifts. He realised he had no idea what level to go to, so he stepped in front of a pretty young witch and said in a smooth, slick tone, "Pardon me, miss; would you mind telling me where the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is?"

"Oh. Yes. Of course." The witch looked entranced. She nodded vigorously. "Level Two."

"Thanks very much." Tom walked by her, leaving her dumbstruck, and moved into a lift. He pushed the _2_ button and held a support strap as the lift whizzed through the many levels of the Ministry. Finally a voice overhead announced,

"_Level Two - Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and __Wizengamot_ _Administration Services._"

Tom stepped out of the lift into a black-tiled corridor. There was a sign overhead labeled _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_, and he moved in that direction. He saw what looked like an information desk, with a young witch seated behind it. Tom cleared his throat as he approached, and the witch looked up. Her eyebrows raised, and she asked rather flirtatiously,

"Checking in for an appointment?"

"Yes. It's Riddle. Tom Riddle."

"I'm aware." The witch grinned broadly and pushed up her horn-rimmed glasses. She gestured to an uncomfortable-looking chair and said, "Please have a seat. I'll let her know you're here."

Tom sank into the wood-and-metal chair as the reception witch went to fetch, presumably, Matilda Beaulieu. Tom twiddled his thumbs and tapped his foot as he listened to the Wizarding Wireless that was quietly playing instrumental music in the corner. After a few moments, Matilda Beaulieu came walking out, so twiggy thin that she looked like the very air would blow her over. She had an irritated expression on her face, and she snapped,

"Come with me, Mr Riddle."

Tom frowned and rose, following Matilda down a claustrophobic corridor lined with office doors. None were marked. Somehow, Matilda knew which one was hers, and she opened the door. They walked into the office, and Matilda sat at her spartan black desk. Tom sat opposite her in a simple black chair, and Matilda folded her hands.

"Please explain to me the death of Harriet Sugarman," she said, and Tom just stared.

"I have no idea who that is."

Matilda sank her teeth into her lip and narrowed her eyes. "Harriet Sugarman was a Muggle woman who went missing from her home in Sussex."

Tom's stomach quivered with realisation, but he kept his face steady. He shrugged. "I still have no idea who she is."

Matilda sighed. "There has been an anonymous tip that you made a request of your… _friends_… to capture and bring you a Muggle for nefarious purposes."

Tom raised his eyebrows. "My goodness. Quite a tip."

"We have carefully communicated with Muggle police," Matilda continued. "Harriet simply vanished. Disappeared. The tip we received says she was kidnapped by Dark wizards and taken to you."

_Legilimens__,_ Tom thought, and he went crashing into Matilda's mind. He rushed to find the memory of her receiving this tip. Suddenly he saw Avery - fat, balding Avery - discussing the matter with Matilda. Anonymous, indeed. Tom was furious all of a sudden, struggling to control himself. He felt rage beyond belief. He had been betrayed. He yanked himself out of Matilda's mind before she could sense him in there, and he shut his eyes.

"If we obtain any evidence whatsoever that you were involved, we will see to it that you are thrown in Azkaban and administered the Dementor's Kiss," Matilda was saying. Tom steadied himself and said in a smooth voice,

"So, you haven't got any evidence of my involvement?"

Matilda was silent.

"May I go, Ms Beaulieu? Must I stay today?" Tom tipped up his chin, and Matilda chewed her lip as she fingered a quill. Tom pressed, "Am I legally obligated to be in this meeting?"

"No," Matilda said at last, "but you should know that we are watching you. And we believe you are a threat. We do not like your philosophy, Mr Riddle, and we do not trust you."

"Duly noted, Ms Beaulieu. Have a fine day." Tom rose from his chair and strode with long, angry steps out of Matilda's office.

* * *

Tom Summoned every last Death Eater he had for an emergency meeting at Malfoy Manor, and now he sat at the head of the table in silence as people began filing in. Avery, when he arrived, looked profoundly nervous. Well, he should look nervous, Tom thought. He was a traitor. Bellatrix seemed anxious, as though she could tell from Tom's blank stare that something awful had happened. When at last every seat was filled, and the room was quiet, Tom cleared his throat and placed his palms flat upon the table.

"I am Lord Voldemort."

People stared back at him in response to that, and he gauged just how fully they seemed to agree with his assertion. Did they see him as a boy, or as their master? He narrowed his eyes and snarled again,

"I am Lord Voldemort. I am more than capable of leading this movement. I have been _better_ than every single one of you since we were children!"

Heads bowed. People shifted in seats. A few seemed uncomfortable. Many seemed afraid. Tom raised his voice and demanded,

"Do any of you doubt me?"

Not a single voice spoke up. He flicked his eyes to Bellatrix, who was staring at him in a way the others did not seem capable of doing right now. The others were looking away, looking down, looking at one another. Bellatrix was making eye contact with Tom, and his heart picked up. He cracked his neck and glared at the rest of his followers as he announced,

"There is a traitor in our midst. Avery!"  
Avery jolted in his chair, his eyes going round as saucers. Tom narrowed his gaze and thrust into Avery's mind with Legilimency. He pawed through memories until he discovered that Avery had betrayed Tom because Tom didn't want to marry Alivia.

"You went to the Ministry of Magic to report that we took a Muggle captive," Tom sneered, "and you did it because I wouldn't marry your daughter? You betrayed me to the Ministry because I would not marry Alivia? Traitor! Despicable coward and turncoat."

The others seemed profoundly ill at ease now. Bellatrix straightened her back and made a move for her wand, but Tom steadied her with a gesture.

"Yaxley!" Tom barked, and blond Yaxley sat up at attention beside his friend Avery. Tom ordered him, "Kill Avery. Do it now, or I shall kill you."

"M-My Lord?" Yaxley sounded shocked.

"Kill Avery, or I shall kill you!" Tom shouted. He whipped out his wand and aimed it at Yaxley, who slowly stood and pulled out his own wand. Avery fell out of his chair and onto his knees, and he began to whimper.

"Please. Please, Corban, no. My Lord. I am so sorry. It will never happen again."

"Alivia will still marry Rodolphus; none of this is their fault," Tom said with an airy attitude. He jabbed his wand at Yaxley and snapped, "Hurry up, and _mean_ it."

"No, please!" Avery sobbed, but Yaxley quickly said in a shaky voice,

"_Avada_ _Kedavra__!_"

There was a blast of green light, and people gasped and cried out as Avery crumpled over in death. Tom let the gravity of the moment settle in the air for a long while. He let it linger that he'd just ordered one Death Eater to kill another on pain of his own execution. He let it hang that betraying the young Dark Lord meant death without the opportunity of redemption. He let all of that ruminate in the room's heavy air for a painfully quiet moment until at last he announced tightly,

"Traitors die. Any questions?"

He was met with terrified silence. Tom nodded. He turned his face to Bellatrix and commanded his future wife,

"Take Avery's body to his wife. Come to my office when you've finished."

"Yes, Master. As you command." Bellatrix spoke with certainty, her voice sure and steady. She rose from her chair, then walked to where Tom sat and genuflected beside his chair. She bowed her head and murmured, "Master."

Then she rose and strode with confidence to Avery's corpse, Levitating it with her wand and departing the meeting room. Tom suddenly felt a powerful admiration for her, a need for her, and he gulped. He turned back to his room full of petrified Death Eaters, and he shrugged.

"I think we have all learned a very valuable lesson today," he told them. "Dismissed."

Hours later, he sat in his office, having had entirely too much firewhisky as he thought over his ridiculous day. Talking with Dumbledore, being threatened with Azkaban by the Ministry, ordering the execution of a traitor… all in a timeline that was not his own. It was almost too much to calibrate mentally. So he drank to dull it just a little. By the time the sun started to go down, Tom's head was positively swimming. He rose to pour himself some more firewhisky, but he was so clumsy that he couldn't manage it, and he stumbled over to an armchair and sank down into it. He tipped his head back and realised this was the armchair into which he'd appeared in this time, and he laughed a little. There was knocking on his office door, and Tom tried to wandlessly open it, but he was too drunk. He finally just shouted,

"Enter!"

The door creaked open and then gently shut, and the beautiful figure of Bellatrix appeared before Tom's armchair. She knitted her fingers together before her and frowned at him, as if trying to assess whether he was all right.

"Just drunk," he told her, and she gave a knowing nod. She informed him,

"Mrs Avery sobbed and screamed. I explained that her husband died a traitor, that you were being merciful in allowing her and Alivia to live. I explained that you were being supremely kind in allowing Alivia to still marry Rodolphus. I told Mrs Avery that she needed to understand that her husband had committed a crime, a heinous offence, and that the Dark Lord's goodness could not be measured."

"You are magnificent." Tom shut his eyes and felt dizzy. He chewed his lip and murmured, "Your behaviour at the meeting was exemplary. The example you set for your fellow Death Eaters… I can't properly…"

"Master." Bellatrix made a move then that set Tom to seething. She straddled him, pushing her knees on either side of his hips and sinking down atop him in the armchair. He hissed through clenched teeth and threaded his arms around her. She held his face in her hands and brushed her lips against his, and she promised him, "I will always serve you. To the fullest extent of my abilities, until the last day of my existence, I will serve you."

"Bella." He swallowed her up then, kissing her deeply and drawing her against his body, deciding that perhaps this day hadn't been so wretched, after all.

**Author's Note: Dumbledore and the Ministry and Death Eater traitors, oh my! But at least Tom **_**really**_ **made some power moves to establish that he's in charge! Now, who's ready for some dorky ****girly** **time? Ha!**


	9. Cake

"Ladies. My lovely girls." Druella Black grinned where she sat at the Black Family dining room table and clapped her hands together merrily. Bellatrix and Narcissa were seated opposite her; Andromeda had decided in a huff to go to a friend's house down the road and not take part. Bellatrix eyed the two envelopes before her mother and took a sip of her Earl Grey tea, and she listened as her mother said,

"Today we get down to the serious business of wedding planning, ladies. Time is not on our side! We must be decisive and make quick choices. That is why I have narrowed things down to just a few options. Bellatrix, as the bride, you have veto power at all times, and if you like none of my options, we shall find better ones."

"I trust you, Mum," Bellatrix said with a weak smile. Druella was having entirely too much fun planning this wedding, and Bellatrix was happy to defer for the most part. Druella passed Bellatrix a silver square envelope and said,

"When you remove the invitation, the writing will magically appear upon the card stock. Behold Option One."

Bellatrix pulled out the pearlescent card and watched as black writing etched itself onto the thick material.

_Mr and Mrs Cygnus Black III _

_request the honour of your presence_

_at the marriage of their daughter_

_Bellatrix_

_to_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_Saturday, the Seventeenth of October, Nineteen Seventy_

_at half-past three o'clock_

_at Castle Rosier, Devon_

_Reception to follow_

Bellatrix danced her fingers over the writing on the card stock and noted,

"It says _Tom Marvolo Riddle._ I suppose he must use that name for everything to do with the wedding, owing to the guest list and the Ministry situation."

"What do you think of that invitation, dear?" Druella asked, and Bellatrix observed the curly-cue design round the corners and the elaborate cursive script. She frowned just a little and pursed her lips.

"This design feels so feminine," she said, and Druella nodded as she handed over the other envelope, which was shimmery, steely grey. Bellatrix pulled out the invitation and instantly smiled. "This is more like it."

This design had straight, square black lines bordering the card stock, and the writing was in a thin, elegant Art Deco font. Bellatrix nodded vigorously and said,

"Perfect. These are perfect."

"Wonderful! We shall have them Multiplied and get them sent by owl to the entire guest list as soon as possible." Druella happily took the invitation back, and Narcissa clapped her hands and then sipped her tea. Druella opened a leather folio and pulled out a parchment with a sketch upon it, which she handed over to Bellatrix. "This is a mock-up from Twillfit and Tattings. Narcissa's maid of honour gown. What do you think?"

Bellatrix took the parchment and examined the drawing, and she smiled a bit at the way the artist had mucked up Narcissa's face in the sketch. Narcissa said,

"So, the dress they've designed for me is cream-coloured chiffon, with fitted long sleeves and an empire waist and a satin sash round the waist. It'll be lovely, but it won't overshadow. What do you think?"

"Oh, you'll look divine," Bellatrix nodded. "Dreamy and airy, carrying a half dozen plum calla lilies gathered in your hands with your hair in a braided crown… it'll be wondrous."

"Well, grand; I shall see that they begin work on her dress straight away, then," Druella said. "They'll have a final sketch of your gown in just a few days, Bellatrix, dear."

Druella took the sketch of Narcissa's gown back and tucked it away in her folio. Narcissa asked in a meek voice,

"What does… _he_… think of you planning all the details without his input, Bellatrix?"

"He's interested in hearing about things, but he trusts me and doesn't want to trouble himself with flowers and the like," Bellatrix said. She huffed a breath and rubbed at her eyes, and she whined, "I still can't believe I am _marrying_ him. The Dark Lord! And me! Getting married! It's like a dream. It's just… it's… _ugh_; I don't know what to do with myself over it."

"I'd be overwhelmed, too," Narcissa mused. "He's an overwhelming man. Even as a teenager."

Her cheeks pinked, and Bellatrix smirked a little to herself. Druella called out,

"Marpy! Bring in the cake samples!"

"Cake samples?" Narcissa's face lit up, and Bellatrix cocked up a brow.

"Do I have to choose only one flavour?"

"I think it's best to choose one, dear," Druella said, "for simplicity's sake. But I've got three flavours for us to try today. Oh, here comes Marpy."

The House-Elf came in with a rolling cart filled with nine small plates. She put three small plates before each witch, and once she'd gone, Druella explained,

"The sample on the left is vanilla cake with coconut cream frosting. Let's begin with that one, shall we?"

Bellatrix bit into that cake, and she moaned softly at the delicious flavour. She nodded and sipped her tea, taking another bite.

"Mmm! That's good. I like that one," she said. Druella nodded and smiled.

"Next we have chocolate cake with hazelnut frosting."

Narcissa got so worked up over that one that she ate the entire piece on her plate and made a move for Bellatrix's sample. The girls giggled as Bellatrix insisted,

"I couldn't choose between those two!"

"Last is the lemon cake with vanilla frosting," Druella said patiently. Bellatrix ate the cake but didn't like it one bit, gulping tea to wash the taste out of her mouth. She shook her head, tried the other two again, and demanded,

"The bottom two tiers of the cake shall be chocolate with hazelnut frosting. The top three tiers shall be vanilla with coconut frosting. We'll offer both to the guests; I'm certain the House-Elves can work it out. I want both."

"Of course. You shall have both, dear," Druella said. Marpy came back and cleared the plates, and Druella folded her hands on the table and sighed. "Well. We've got the invitations, the flowers, the music, the bridesmaids' dresses, the maid of honour gown, the cake… your gown will be sorted soon, Bellatrix, and properly. Things are shaping up wonderfully, I should think."

"It will be marvelous," Narcissa predicted. "The most beautiful wedding there ever was. It'll put every other wedding of the year to shame."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. It wasn't a contest, though, it rather was, if she was honest. The Dark Lord needed to have an impressive wedding if he would cement himself atop Pureblood society. Bellatrix just hoped she was planning an event fit for him.

She bid her sister and mother farewell and headed upstairs, deciding to relax in her room for a while with a book. But after some time, her Dark Mark seared and tingled, and she yanked back her sleeve to see that it had gone black. She gasped and flew off her bed, abandoning her book. She clutched her wand and Disapparated from the spot, going to Tom's Summons. She could feel him calling through the ether, beckoning her. She expected to come to outside of Malfoy Manor, thinking there would be a meeting or gathering. But instead, she stood in the corridor outside of his flat. Bellatrix frowned and knocked firmly on the door, which flew open almost immediately.

He stood there in a white shirt that had the top few buttons undone, untucked from his trousers, with his sleeves rolled up. He was barefoot and messy-haired, and he held a glass of wine. He beckoned for Bellatrix to come inside, which she did, and she asked,

"My Lord, is something the matter? My Mark burned so insistently."

"I was just calling you here. I didn't think you'd mind coming over for wine and conversation," he surmised, and Bellatrix grinned. She shook her head.

"I don't mind."

Tom sipped his glass of red wine and ambled toward his kitchen, and she watched as he poured her a glass. She approached him and happily took it, murmuring her thanks as she sipped. He leaned casually onto the counter with one arm, setting his glass down, and he asked,

"What have you been up to on this fine Saturday, Bella?"

She wondered what had put him in such a fine mood, especially just two days after ordering Avery's execution. Perhaps, she thought, he was determined to be happy. She took a sip of wine and informed him,

"Wedding planning, Master."

"Oh? Do tell." He drummed his fingers, and she summarised,

"Narcissa will be in cream, in a lovely gown that's already been designed. The invitations are rather masculine, an Art Deco design in steel grey and black. Formal wording, of course."

"Of course," Tom nodded, and she laughed a little. She set her wine down and neared him, and he reached up to brush his thumb under her eye. She sucked in air, wanting him badly, and she pronounced,

"We'll be having two types of cake - chocolate with hazelnut frosting, and vanilla with coconut frosting."

"Mmph. You're making me hungry," Tom grunted, and Bellatrix giggled. She reached up to kiss him, and he cupped her jaw as he brushed his lips along hers. He pressed his mouth onto hers and said, "It sounds fantastic."

"I want to marry you." Bellatrix scratched at his scalp, making him sigh into their next kiss, and his arms snaked down onto her waist. He suddenly pulled his mouth from hers and mumbled onto her lips,

"I want to wait."

Wait? She froze. He wanted to wait. She stared up him, terrified.

"You want to wait… to marry me?" she asked, but he choked a laugh and shook his head.

"Sex," he corrected her. "I want to wait for sex. Proper sex; I mucked it up the last time and we didn't… you know, I was never inside you. I want to wait to be inside you."

"Why?" Bellatrix blurted the word before she could stop herself. Tom tucked her hair behind her ear and said simply,

"Because both of us deserve a wedding night with a watershed moment. If we've already done it a dozen times, it won't feel special on the night of our wedding."

Bellatrix bit her tongue. She wasn't so certain that the first time would feel _special._ It would probably hurt, for one thing; her mother had told her that a witch's first time usually hurt a bit. She might bleed. It probably wouldn't last long - not long at all, if their previous attempt was any basis. And they would be clumsy novices with no idea what they were doing.

"Bella."

She raised her eyes to him, frowning, and he furrowed his brows.

"You don't want to wait."

"I will never question you, Master." Bellatrix bowed her head, but he immediately put a knuckle under her chin and brought her face up until she was looking at him. He scowled down at her and reminded her,

"You are to be my wife. What you think matters. Why don't you want to wait? Is it pure lust?"

"No," Bellatrix said a bit defensively. "It's that I suspect our first time will be messy, and uncomfortable, and very brief, and probably rather amateurish, if we're being honest with ourselves. I'm sure it'll be fun and all that, but the fifth time will probably be much better than the first time, and I think I might rather be good at it on my wedding night instead of being an incompetent mess. Master."

He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head, dragging his thumb over Bellatrix's bottom lip.

"You make some good points."

"I do?" Bellatrix chomped her lip. Tom kissed her forehead and murmured,

"I don't want to be an incompetent mess for you on your wedding night, Bella. If you think we need a bit of practise, then we'll get a bit of practise."

"We will?" She was breathless now, with his lips warm on her forehead and his hand stroking at her cheek.

"How about right now?" he suggested, his words buzzing against Bellatrix's skin, and she shut her eyes and smiled a little.

"Now," she repeated, and he brought his lips down to hers. He kissed her slowly, carefully, his fingers snaring into her curls, and he whispered,

"I may be an incompetent mess today; will you forgive me?"

"I'll be just as clumsy," she promised. "Let's go, My Lord."

**Author's Note: Okay! Let's try this again - and maybe try ****to actually penetrate** **her this time, eh, Tom? Ha! As you can tell, there's a rather sizeable sexy chapter coming up ahead. :****)** **So tell me, which cake would **_**you**_ **choose if you were a guest at their wedding? The chocolate with hazelnut, or the vanilla with coconut?**


	10. Accomplishment

"I want to last for you," Tom said to Bellatrix as they walked into his bedroom and he lit the lanterns on the walls. "I want to do this properly."

"It's all right if it's not proper," Bellatrix assured him, smiling warmly. "We are neither of us experienced with this, Master. Perhaps we ought to simply try to enjoy ourselves."

"All right," he grumbled. He began unbuttoning his white shirt as they stepped into the room, and once it was opened, he wrenched it off and tossed it away. He peeled off his undershirt and moved his fingers to the waistband of his trousers. As he worked the buttons, Bellatrix reached round to the nape of her neck and unfastened her dress. She opened it and pulled it over her head, and she folded it and set it on the chair in the corner of Tom's bedroom. She stepped out of her low-heeled shoes, and he eyed her with a hungry gaze. She looked so good in black lace, her bra allowing her pert nipples to peek through. Her high-waisted knickers made her waist look so small. He huffed a breath and whispered,

"Beautiful."

She looked self-conscious at that, but she moved with meticulous hands to unhook her bra and push her knickers down and kick them off. Once she was naked, she strode over to Tom and put her hands straight over his on the buttons of his trousers. He sucked in a breath and moved his fingers away, letting her work instead. She stared up at him as she undid the buttons, and then she pulled his trousers down a bit and freed his cock from the confines of his underwear. Bellatrix looked heady, dizzy, and Tom tucked her hair behind her ear as he murmured,

"Touch me carefully, lovely creature."

"Yes, Master," she replied, which was almost too much for him to bear. He shoved his trousers and underwear far enough down to be kicked away, and then he was naked alongside her. When she dragged the pad of her thumb over his dewy tip, he hissed and bent to touch his forehead to hers. She kept rubbing him there, then danced her fingers around his shaft and along the sensitive underside where his tip began. He gasped and pulled her hand away, insisting,

"Mmm… I'll finish."

"Sorry." She giggled a little and sank her teeth into her full lip as she told him, "I just like to touch you. So much. I like to feel you."

"Oh. _Oh_. Sometime soon I'm going to let you touch me until I come all over your fingers," Tom promised her. He took a few deep, steadying breaths to prevent himself reaching completion before things had even begun. He reached for Bellatrix's breast, cupping the right one in his hand and squeezing a little at the soft tissue. He brushed his thumb over her peaked nipple, and he commented, "You have the most spectacular breasts. Did you know? It's the truth."

"Master," Bellatrix demurred, tipping her head back a little. Her curls tumbled back over her shoulders, revealing her beautiful shoulders and neck, and Tom leaned forward, bending down as his cock folded up against her stomach. He kissed gently at the skin beneath her ear, and she let out a soft sound. Tom reached between her legs and touched at her clit, pulsing his fingers into the downy patch of hair and pushing against her damp womanhood as he kissed her neck. She flushed wetter than before, and as he dragged his fingers around her folds and clit, he pinched at her nipple and whispered against her skin,

"I want you so badly."

His cock was proof of it, too. He was throbbing against her stomach, his member leaking precome onto her belly button as he ground a little. He squeezed her breast, pulled his fingers in long strokes along her clit, and hummed as he suckled the lobe of her ear,

"Tell me you want me as badly as I want you, Bella."

"Master." She gasped the word, and he smirked a little to hear how breathless she'd become. Her hands flew up to his head, and her fingernails gently scratched at his scalp. She choked out, "I want you. I want you, I want you."

"Do you want to come?" Tom pushed his fingers against her clit and made circles with them, and she cried out as if in agony. Her hands cinched on his thick wavy hair, and he grunted as he moved his lips to hers. He kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and he squeezed her breast so tightly that she squealed. When he let her go, he asked again, "Do you want to come, Bella?"

"Please." She rolled her belly forward onto his cock, which made him toss his head back and dig his teeth into his lip. "Please; I need to come."

"Come for me, Bellatrix." Tom kissed her again, and this time when he did, he deepened the pulsing, circling movement of his fingers on her soaked clit, and he massaged her breast carefully, and she lost herself. She moaned into his mouth, and her back arched, and her knees seemed to give out a little. He released her breast and drew her close against him to support her as her walls snapped rhythmically. Her hands went slack in his hair, and her mouth stopped kissing him back, but her voice vibrated against his lips as she groaned through her orgasm.

It was so arousing. It was the most arousing thing Tom could imagine. Never in any fantasy he'd ever cooked up had he possessed fuel like this. She was so much - soft and beautiful, vicious and cruel. She was intelligent and clever and loyal and calculating and funny and pleasant and…

"Bellatrix." He ripped his mouth from hers and informed her, "We have about thirty seconds before we get a repeat of what happened last time, so."

She smiled a little but did not laugh at him, mercifully. Instead she just clamored up onto the bed, looking quite shaky. Tom grabbed his wand and aimed it at her lower abdomen, muttering a contraceptive charm, and then he joined her on the bed. She was soaking wet, he knew, and swollen and ready. But it still might hurt her a bit, and she might bleed. He would try to be careful, he thought. He didn't want to traumatise her in any way. Not her. She didn't deserve it.

He hovered over her and stared down as she parted her legs dutifully, and he mused to himself that he intellectually knew there were many ways for this to occur. She could be on top, or he could be behind her. They could try all those other ways some other time, he thought. For now, they just needed to get through the act so they could say they'd accomplished it, and then the other times would allow experimentation. Tom lined his cock up with Bellatrix's entrance and felt the familiar rush of satisfaction, of completion. He wrenched his eyes shut and whispered,

"No. Mmph."

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix reached up and stroked at his shoulder, at his bicep, and he took a few slow breaths to steady himself. He relished the feel of her touching him, and he thought to himself that her touch was a remarkably soothing thing. He finally opened his eyes and nodded.

"Tell me to stop if it hurts too badly."

"All right, Master." Bellatrix's eyes were very round all of a sudden, so he bent to give her a reassuring kiss. He pushed himself into her body and felt something stretch, a barrier just inside of her tight, hot entrance. She winced and squirmed beneath him as he kept pushing, and she whimpered a little the farther he pushed.

It felt so good. She was so snug around him, like a warm, wet embrace. Her walls were squeezing him, pulling him in further, and he pulsed his hips a few times. She was so wet from the way he'd touched her that he slid in and out easily, but when he looked down, he could see plainly that Bellatrix was in a bit of pain.

"Shall I stop?" he whispered, but she shook her head vigorously and insisted,

"N-No. Don't… don't stop."

Tom pumped his hips a few more times and then froze. He could feel his balls pulled up tightly against his body. He could feel his head spinning, his veins flushed hot with pleasure. He could feel the heady rush of orgasm approaching him like a steam engine, and he sucked in a breath as he murmured apologetically,

"It won't last."

"Master?" Bellatrix put her hands on his chest and stared up at him. She tucked her legs round his waist, and suddenly he felt quite at home nestled within her. He licked his lip and sheathed himself further, and she told him, "I feel so very strongly toward you. I hope you know. I hope it's all right that I do."

"Bella." Tom squeezed his eyes shut and thrust his hips a few more times, and then he groaned loudly and huffed, "You are… oh. _Oh_. Magnificent. _Oh_."

He came hard then, spilling his seed straight into her body in volleys that brought pleasure in jolts. His mind spun like a top and his ears rang. He saw spots for a moment, and he thought distantly that he hadn't come this hard in as long as he could remember. Finally, _finally_, he slid out of Bellatrix's body, noticing a few speckles of blood on the white blankets and watching a little stream of his come follow him out of her. He shuddered and lay beside her on the bed, his softening, messy cock flopping rather ungracefully onto his thigh. He sighed and reached in silence for his wand, and he moved to perform Scouring and Siphoning spells and quickly and quietly as he could. Bellatrix nodded her thanks, shutting her eyes and smiling a bit. He leaned over to kiss her lips and whispered,

"What's got you grinning?"

"I'm not a virgin anymore," she noted, "and it's because of the master whom I worship most ardently."

Tom could scarcely breathe at that. He brushed his knuckles over her hair and shrugged.

"How could I have married Alivia Avery?"

"She would have made you happy, My Lord," Bellatrix asserted, her lips quirking up. "She's pretty, and she -"

"Alivia Avery does not hold a Cruciatus Curse until the victim is insane, then execute them. Alivia Avery can not move the body of an executed traitor on my behalf. Alivia Avery has never crashed Muggles' cars into each other on a secret mission. Alivia Avery would not make a good dinner partner, as you do, and she is not half so beautiful as you are, and I could keep going on and on, but I think you get the idea."

Bellatrix was giving him a toothy smile now, her eyes cracked open, and she nodded. She reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand and said quietly,

"I think I get the idea, Master."

"Bella, stay the night," Tom suggested, and Bellatrix looked mildly scandalised. He kissed her lips and then her cheek, and he whispered, "Take a shower with me. Have dinner with me. Read books until we get sleepy. Then curl up in this bed with me and stay until the sun comes up."

Bellatrix turned her head a little and twirled his thick, wavy hair round her finger as she dragged her teeth over her lip.

"Yes, Master," she said, and he kissed her again.

**Author's Note: Whew! Anyone else ****have** **a cavity after that sweet lemon? But at least they've actually done it now, right? Of course, if you can't smell trouble looming on the horizon, you haven't been reading my stories. Will Dumbledore or the Ministry make trouble for Tom, or will he face more problems from within the ranks of his Death Eaters? And will he sic Bellatrix on any Muggles, or will he not risk something like that with so many eyes on him? ****Hmmm**… **thanks for reading, and a massive thank you for any and all feedback.**


	11. Honey Lavender

Bellatrix ambled out of The Leaky Cauldron with her mother, walking through the crowded thoroughfare of Diagon Alley. All the students of Hogwarts had just gone back to school, and ordinary civilians had put off their shopping until the students' families had cleared out of Diagon Alley's shops. So now the cobblestone path was packed with people seeking boomslang skin for potions and Sleekeazy's for their hair, and Bellatrix and Druella had to worm their way through the masses. They were on their way to Twilfitt and Tattings for a preliminary view of Bellatrix's wedding gown, and Bellatrix had butterflies in her stomach at the notion that the dress was getting made at all.

Twilfitt and Tattings was located on the South Side of Diagon Alley, and its storefront was an elegant stone with a beautiful hand-painted sign. Bellatrix and her mother went inside to the sound of a bell tinkling overhead, and almost immediately, a lovely forty-something blonde witch in a powder blue belted robe came sweeping out from the back. Bellatrix knew her well; Cora Mabry had been her seamstress for about ten years now. Cora grinned a broad, toothy smile and clasped her hands together.

"Madam Black. Bellatrix. Welcome. I can not wait to show you the work we've done on your wedding gown. Please, will you come in and have a seat? May I fetch tea?"

"Oh, I don't think we need tea, but thank you, Cora," said Druella. "We're just eager to see the gown."

Druella and Bellatrix sank into twin lavender armchairs that were arranged before racks of ready-to-wear robes and full-length mirrors. Bellatrix twined her fingers together and sat up straight as Cora went to the back again. Bellatrix stared at her mother and fretted,

"What if it's dreadful?"

"Then we shall have them start over," Druella said in a calm voice. Bellatrix huffed a breath. Cora came back out with a Levitated gown, guiding it with her wand. Bellatrix gasped when she saw the creation. Her heart sped up and her stomach clenched. She observed the short puff sleeves, the tiny cinched waist, the full skirts, and she watched as Cora arranged the gown on the mannequin with a hoop skirt round its waist already set up by the full-length mirrors. The gown settled, its enormous skirts billowing, and Cora informed Bellatrix,

"I have utilised Eighteen metres of pure Italian raw silk to craft this gown. I doubled the bodice with canvas and bone. You will note the rich decoration all over the neckline and bodice and skirts, using ribbons, pearls, and beading, and lace made by witches in France. The enormous skirts are bordered by lace that comes from skilled wizards in Venice, and the bows at the gathering points are more silk. The train extends three metres and is removed for dancing."

"Bellatrix," breathed Druella, "that is the most gorgeous gown I have ever seen."

"I don't know what to say," Bellatrix choked, staring at the cream silk confection. "I don't feel like I ought to wear it. I don't feel like I'm… _worthy_ of wearing it."

"You are marrying Tom Riddle," hissed Druella. "You need the best, and this is the best."

"Right." Bellatrix nodded at that idea, and she told Cora, "You have made something extraordinary. That much is certain. When can I try it on?"

"It is still too delicate," Cora said, "as we have not yet reinforced all the seams. Because of the weight of the skirting, I will need another three days or so to work on reinforcement before I'd feel confident putting a person inside the gown. But I wanted to get your approval on the design before moving forward."

"Oh, approval granted, I should think," Druella said brashly, and Bellatrix nodded. They were shown the veil then, which was delicate French lace that would hover down over Bellatrix's face with one layer and trail all the way down her back. All of this was overwhelming, Bellatrix thought. She could scarcely contemplate _actually_ marrying Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort - her master.

By the time she and her mother left Twilfitt and Tattings, she desperately needed a reprieve from the stress of wedding planning, so she suggested they go to Florean Fortescue's to get ice cream. Druella happily agreed, as the day was unseasonably hot, and the two of them went into the shop to order. Bellatrix got honey lavender, which sounded delicious on a day like today, and Druella opted for rosewater ice cream. The witches took their treats to a table in the street outside and sat down, and as they ate, Bellatrix fretted,

"I think Andromeda will run off with a Mudblood some day, Mum."

"Oh, I don't think she and that Ted Tonks boy are serious. They're just children," Druella said dismissively. "This is just a phase. She'll grow out of it and come to her senses. She's a member of the House of Black. She'll realise just how silly all of her talk of so-called Blood Equality is. She'll realise just what family she was born into and why she needs to find herself a suitable match. I have faith."

"I'm not so sure." Bellatrix sighed. "She told me yesterday that if I go through with marrying… _Tom_… that she'll never speak to me again."

Druella scoffed and shook her head. "An empty threat. She'll never speak to you again? I am a mother, Bellatrix; I've heard door-slamming threats like that from you girls for years. Pish posh. She'll never speak to you again. What she means is that she'll skulk in her room on the day of the wedding. And let her! If her presence would sour the occasion, then she shouldn't be there."

"Mum, we have to be prepared for the possibility that Andy might become sympathetic with enemies of my future husband's cause," Bellatrix said seriously, and Druella pinched her lips.

"Don't think I haven't thought of that." She took a bite of her rose ice cream. "I have considered the gravity of my middle daughter's words and deeds, Bellatrix. I don't wish to think about it any more today. Today we got to see your beautiful wedding gown and veil. Let's concentrate on that."

"All right," Bellatrix grumbled, and she took a few bites of her honey lavender ice cream. But then she looked up, for someone snapped her name in a snarl beside their table.

"Bellatrix Black?"

"May I help you?" Bellatrix shielded her eyes and looked up to see a very tall, very thin witch wearing business robes and carrying a leather folio. The witch glared down at Bellatrix, ignoring Druella entirely, and she said,

"My name is Matilda Beaulieu. I'm with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. I need you to come with me."

"Whatever for?" Druella demanded. "Is she under arrest?"

"The Ministry has a few questions for you, Miss Black," said Matilda Beaulieu. "Kindly come with me."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and calculated. If she went with this Matilda Beaulieu to some secluded Ministry office, she could set herself up to be interrogated and give up information that could land her or Tom in Azkaban. If there was already a warrant for her arrest, then Beaulieu could go ahead and arrest her here. But Bellatrix was not going to just follow this witch to the Ministry and answer her questions willingly. She cleared her throat loudly and said,

"My mother and I are busy running errands today. Wedding planning. Please do pull up a chair, Ms Beaulieu, and ask your questions here."

Matilda Beaulieu scowled and said, "I'd much prefer to speak at my office in the Ministry Headquarters."

"And I'd much prefer to speak here, eating my ice cream." Bellatrix dug her spoon into her honey lavender treat and took a very deliberate bite. She pushed back a third wrought-iron chair and said lightly, "Do sit down."

Matilda Beaulieu reluctantly huffed into the chair and set her leather folio onto the table. She moved clinically then, opening her folio and pulling out a parchment with an unmoving photograph of a smiling woman upon it. Bellatrix recognised the woman at once. It was the Muggle she'd tortured and killed in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor. But she kept her face quite steady and accepted the parchment, glancing up at Matilda. She was silent.

"Do you know this woman?" Matilda asked at last, and Bellatrix just shrugged.

"No. Should I know her?"

"Her name is Harriet Sugarman," said Matilda. "Ring any bells?"

"I'm afraid not." Bellatrix handed the paper back to Matilda and took a bite of ice cream. "Has something happened?"

Matilda narrowed her eyes and tucked the parchment into the leather folio, which she shut.

"We have reason to believe that Harriet Sugarman, a Muggle, was abducted from her home in Sussex and taken to Malfoy Manor. We have reason to believe that you were involved in the terrible things that then happened to her. Right this moment, there are Aurors searching Malfoy Manor for evidence of Harriet Sugarman's fate. If they should find anything, we will have sufficient cause to examine your wand, as we were advised to do by a certain member of the Wizengamot."

A certain member of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore. Bellatrix flicked her eyes to her mother and shrugged. She moved her eyes back to Matilda with lazy, deliberate slowness and said,

"I'm quite certain they won't find anything of note at Malfoy Manor. At least nothing involving me, seeing as I wasn't involved in anything."

"You had nothing to do with the disappearance or possible death of Harriet Sugarman?" Matilda Beaulieu demanded, and Bellatrix just shook her head no.

"As I said, Ms Beaulieu, I don't even know who Harriet Sugarman is. So sorry I couldn't be of more help to you. I hope you find out what happened to her, though I wonder why the Ministry of Magic is so involved in the disappearance of a Muggle."

"Because we know it was you and your fiancé," Matilda hissed. "We know she was kidnapped and brought to him. We know you were involved somehow. We can't… we…"

"You just can't prove it?" Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and took another bite of honey lavender ice cream. She raised her eyebrows and nodded. "I see. Well, if there's nothing else, Ms Beaulieu, my mother and I are going to make a stop into Madam Primpernelle's before heading home."

"If they find anything at Malfoy Manor, we shall come for your wand, and if we find any Unforgivables in the history of your wand, you will go to Azkaban for the rest of your life," Matilda spat. Bellatrix scowled and took the last bite of her ice cream.

"Why so many threats and so much anger, Ms Beaulieu? I haven't even done anything wrong to warrant this sort of rage from you. I don't understand why you -"

"I think you understand perfectly well, and I think you know just fine what you did," Matilda spat. She stood up and walked away without another word, leaving Bellatrix and Druella alone at the table. Druella shut her eyes and shook her head, and she murmured softly,

"Don't tell me anything."

"Right." Bellatrix set down her spoon and declared, "I really would like to go to Madam Primpernelle's; I need a new bar of Reilly's Shampoo for Curious Curls. It's the only stuff that keeps my hair manageable, and I ran out a few days ago. Hence why I've got a rat's nest at the moment."

"Fine." Druella shoved away her ice cream glass and spoon and stood, and she walked in silence with Bellatrix to the beauty shop. Bellatrix stayed close to her mother in the cramped store until she found the jade-coloured block of solid shampoo for curls, which she popped into her shopping basket. She made her way toward the checkout counter, but Druella grabbed at her wrist, and Bellatrix whirled around. She stared up at her mother, whose eyes had welled. Druella whispered in a frantic voice,

"I don't want you in Azkaban."

"Funny coincidence; I don't want to go to Azkaban," Bellatrix shrugged. "He wouldn't let it happen. Care has been taken. Rest assured."

"Were you involved?" Druella asked, her voice almost inaudible. Her bottom lip trembled, and Bellatrix sniffed. She glanced around, ensuring no one was listening, and she finally whispered to her mother,

"Yes. I was involved. But you knew what I was signing up to do in June, Mum. Let it go."

She pulled away and bought her shampoo for curly hair, and she and Druella quietly made their way back to the Black family home. Bellatrix waited until later that night to do anything else, thinking that showing up at Malfoy Manor when there were Aurors there would be a terrible idea. So she waited until nine o'clock, and then she Disapparated from her parents' house, coming to in the corridor outside Tom's flat. She knocked on his door, expecting him to answer in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, holding a glass of wine and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He'd be grumbling about the Aurors, she thought.

But he didn't answer, not the first time she knocked, and not the fifth time she knocked. He wasn't home at nine, and he wasn't home when she came back at eleven. Bellatrix stood in the corridor in the middle of the night, feeling queasy and uncertain, and she Disapparated, hoping with all her might that he was ruminating in his office at Malfoy Manor.

**Author's Note: Uh-Oh. The Ministry is closing in on Tom and Bellatrix, and it seems like Dumbledore's got a lot to do with it. But the wedding planning goes on! What do you think ****-** **is Tom in his office** **safely****, or has the Ministry got him? Thanks so much for reading. Please ****do ****review if you get a quick moment. There are tons of people reading this story, which is great, but I'd ****really ****love to hear from more readers! Thanks a million!**


	12. War

_BANG. BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG._

Tom blinked his eyes open and gulped, feeling thirsty. He raised his head up from where he'd fallen asleep on his desk and cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes and grabbing the watered-down Tom Collins he'd made up hours earlier. He swigged the diluted, flat drink and called out in a voice hoarse from sleep,

"Enter!"

The door flew open, and Bellatrix appeared, practically slamming the door shut behind her as she dashed into the office. She bowed her head as a mark of respect to her master, and she huffed out,

"Oh, My Lord, thank goodness you are here. I knocked with no answer at your flat, and then Dobby - the little idiot - said he wasn't sure if you were in here or not, and that the Malfoys had gone to bed an hour ago. I didn't mean to bang on the door, but I was getting desperate."

"I'm so sorry; I dozed off." Tom rubbed at his eyes again and gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit. Please."

She sank into the chair and stared at the piles of parchments on Tom's desk. He patted one stack of papers and explained,

"I was going through all of my documents when I drifted off to sleep. Seeing as how the Aurors who came here read them, I figured I'd make sure there really wasn't anything incriminating. But it seems that discretion has been key to this movement for some time. These papers are all remarkably mundane. And Abraxas had nothing to hide, it seems. They went through every single room of this manor. They were here for seven hours, Bella."

"Seven hours?" She clapped her hand to her mouth, and he raked his fingers through his hair as he shook his head.

"They got here at half-past eleven, said they were looking for evidence of Harriet Sugarman's presence, and began searching. They went through the dungeon. They interrogated the House-Elf, though of course he lied for his master. They looked in every parlour, every bedroom for scraps of evidence. They tore this office apart. They questioned me for two hours, though they couldn't legally use any potions or anything on me. It was exhausting."

He shut his eyes and remembered the way the Aurors had sat him down in the dining room and drilled him over and over about whether he had ever heard the name Harriet Sugarman, whether he'd been to Sussex, whether he'd ever seen the Muggle woman's face in person, whether anyone he knew had harmed her… whether Bellatrix Black had harmed her.

"I am so glad you're here." He opened his eyes and stared at Bellatrix. "I was so worried. I thought about calling you through your Dark Mark, but I thought they might have you. You see, they asked me whether you had been involved with the Muggle, so I thought they must have you in custody, and I was terribly concerned. It made me feel…"

He furrowed his brow and gulped. Ill. He'd felt ill, thinking of Bellatrix being held by the Ministry. He snatched his glass and swallowed down the last of his watery Tom Collins, and he sniffed. He rose from his chair and went over to his drinks cart. He mumbled,

"Want a Tom Collins?"

"No cucumber?" Bellatrix teased. He smirked a little and glanced at her, one brow up. She nodded gratefully, and he took out another glass. He scooped some ice from his EverCool bucket into the glasses and reached for his bottle of gin, and he said to Bellatrix,

"The Aurors got a _lot_ of information out of Avery when he went to them. He told them that I asked for a Muggle so that I could witness your prowess with Unforgivables. He told them that Harriet Sugarman was taken from her home in Sussex and brought to Malfoy Manor and that she died here. So when they asked me about your involvement, I was certain they had you."

"Well, they tried," Bellatrix said, and Tom flicked his eyes to her as he poured gin into his largest cocktail shaker. He corked the gin bottle and opened his bottle of lemon juice, drizzling it in. He added the simple syrup and then put the lid on the shaker and asked,

"What do you mean, _they tried?_"

"Matilda Beaulieu found my mother and me eating ice cream in Diagon Alley," Bellatrix said as Tom began shaking, "and she wanted me to go with her to the Ministry. I refused."

"Good girl." Tom opened the shaker and poured the mixture into the two glasses. He set down the shaker and narrowed his eyes at Bellatrix. "You are so very brilliant. A lesser witch would have panicked and gone with her."

"Well, I've no desire to see either you or me in Azkaban," Bellatrix shrugged, "so I made her interrogate me right there in the street. She didn't get what she wanted. She did tell me they were searching Malfoy Manor… and that a _certain __Wizengamot_ _member_ had recommended my wand be examined."

"Dumbledore." Tom pursed his lips and reached for the jug of club soda. He popped out the cork and topped off the glasses with the stuff, corking the jug again and sighing. He put two thick paper straws into the twin cocktails he'd made up. He carried the drinks back to his desk and slid Bellatrix's over to her. She gratefully accepted the drink as Tom arranged himself in his chair and said again, "Dumbledore. I want that bastard dead."

Bellatrix sipped her drink and looked a bit mournful. "I wish I could kill him for you, Master. I do not suppose I am strong enough."

"Bella." Tom shut his eyes, tipped his head back, and sipped deeply from his drink. "You are magnificent. Did you know?"

"My Lord?" Bellatrix asked in a cautious voice, "Will there be a meeting?"

"A meeting?" Tom dropped his face and opened his eyes. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "No, Bellatrix, there is not going to be a meeting. I was betrayed from the inside the last time round, by Avery. How could I hold a meeting to debrief my feelings on the Auror search of Malfoy Manor? I can't be certain yet about the true depth of loyalty of my Death Eaters. Until I can be certain of that, much as it pains me, my movement must move forward with caution. I simply cannot afford to be attacking enemies and instigating conflict."

Bellatrix nodded her understanding and sipped her drink again. "I see. You need to wait until the heat from the Ministry is off a bit. You need to be certain that you are trusted and feared in this timeline before making aggressive moves."

"Precisely." Tom nodded and licked his lip. He drummed his fingers on his desk and said, "My focus needs to be on solidifying my position in Pureblood society, in cementing my status as the leader of my Death Eaters. Marrying you will certainly do that. My presence at the wedding of Rodolphus Lestrange and Alivia Avery in a few weeks will help. I shall need to brainstorm some other social means of locking in authority. Once that authority is secured, my movement can proceed."

Bellatrix sipped a little at her drink and seemed thoughtful. Then she nodded and said, "I shall think on it, Master."

"Oh, I am so tired of contemplating Aurors and Dumbledore and politics today," Tom bemoaned, taking a rather large drink of his Tom Collins. He set his glass down and ordered Bellatrix, "Talk to me about something else. What sort of ice cream were you having when Matilda found you?"

Bellatrix smiled a little and chewed her lip. "Honey lavender."

Tom studied Bellatrix's pretty face, deciding it must be the prettiest face there was, and he asked, "Was it quite good?"

"Delicious," Bellatrix affirmed. "So good."

"I shall have to try it," Tom nodded. "Honey lavender ice cream from Florean Fortescue's. They didn't have that flavour in my time."

"What sorts of things were different?" Bellatrix asked curiously. "What's changed in twenty-five years?"

He sighed and shook his head. "In the wizarding world, not much. In the Muggle world, almost everything. Their automobiles look and feel and smell completely different. Their fashions have shifted entirely. Their music has radically changed. Even the food they eat is different now. In the wizarding world, the changes are more subtle. Different paint on a storefront. New beats to the popular music on the Wireless. Faster brooms in Quidditch. A few political shifts. Some new cuts and lines in clothing styles. But for the most part, our world stays steady, and their world rocks itself to pieces every few years."

"So you do not feel so very out of place?" Bellatrix asked. "At least not in our world?"

"No." Tom picked up his drink and sipped again. "No, but when I look out the windows of my flat onto the Muggle world below, it does seem foreign and odd to me. I saw a colour television set through the window of another flat, and I was baffled."

"What's a television set?" Bellatrix asked. Tom smirked a little and said,

"I had to figure that out for myself. They are, apparently, boxes that transmit moving images and sound to the viewer. A form of entertainment. They are so different from us, Bellatrix. Never forget that. They move about in great hulking metal beasts that belch out smoke. They eat food cooked slowly and without any real skill. They dull their senses with things like televisions instead of partaking in intellectual endeavours. And they devote endless financial and mental resources to the creation of terrible devices designed solely to destroy one another."

"Guns and bombs." Bellatrix nodded. "My father told me that Grindelwald used to give speeches about how destructive Muggles are by nature."

"Yes. I attended a few of his speeches, near the end of his time," Tom said. "At the height of his power. Everything he had predicted was coming true; the Muggles were fighting each other in an awful war where they packed one another into camps and killed each other with poison gas, where they hucked bombs into villages just to capture them… Grindelwald was right. Muggles will do anything and everything for power, including the destruction of entire populations, countries, and priceless places."

"And what would you do for power, Master?" Bellatrix asked rather boldly. He sipped his Tom Collins and turned up half his mouth at her, tipping his head.

"It's a little different."

She was silent then, and he set down his drink as he told her,

"Plucking victims out from the crowd to make a point is different from mowing down an entire city with bombs from airplanes. Giving an ultimatum in exchange for victory is different from saying, '_I win because you have nothing left._' I will seize power because I shall be clever about it, not because I will have been some ham-fisted strongman. In the war I shall win, I shall be the most intelligent combatant, not the most brash and ridiculous. This is the difference between Muggles and me. They try to capture power through sheer force. I will capture power by outsmarting and outplaying my opponent."

Bellatrix grinned broadly and sipped the last of her drink. She put the glass on his desk and huffed a breath. Her cheeks had gone quite pink, and she blinked a few times. Tom frowned.

"What? What is it?" he asked, and she admitted,

"It's rather wondrous, hearing you speak like that," she said.

He laughed a bit and swigged the last of his drink, but Bellatrix's face stayed sombre. As Tom set his drink down, the ice cubes in it rattling, Bellatrix stared straight at him. Her cheeks had gone darker than ever, and she pushed her curls away from her face with trembling fingers.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, worried now. Bellatrix licked her lip and shrugged.

"I've fallen for you," she declared. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

"Oh." Tom blinked. He examined her full lips, her lovely dark eyes, and he assured her, "I don't mind."

Bellatrix looked rather distraught. Her eyes welled heavily with tears, and she insisted, "You were meant to stay my master, even though you'd come back as a young man. And I was meant to stay your servant. And that was all it was meant to be. But then you said you wanted to marry me, to form an alliance with strong families, and there were dinners, and there were kisses. And then days like today, when I worried so ferociously over you, and came to find you here and spoke with you about your ambition. And all of combines, My Lord, into something I can't control. And I do want you, badly, all the time. And I find myself rather head over heels for you. So I'm sorry."

He shifted in his chair and shook his head. "I only wish you would not apologise for it, Bella."

She gave him a weak smile and said, "It's so late. I ought to get going home, probably."

"Come home with me," he suggested, and she dragged her teeth over her lip as she sniffed a little. He nodded and said, "It _is_ late. Come back to my flat and sleep in until ten with me. We'll have breakfast food when it's almost noon."

She laughed and nodded. "That sounds marvelous."

He rose and held his hand out to her.

"Let's go."

**Author's Note: Awwwwww. Bellamort Fluff and Stuff! And he knows what he **_**wants**_ **to achieve, but he also knows he needs to wait to achieve it. What sorts of social climbing events will he and Bellatrix come up with to cement his position and power? Thanks for reading and a huge thanks for reviews!**


	13. Alivia

Bellatrix knocked on Tom's door and tugged at the full skirts of her dress. She'd donned an off-the-shoulder creation in black satin, with sleeves to her elbows and skirts reaching her knees over a voluminous crinoline. Her hair had been carefully coiffed into an elegant style over one shoulder. She had cemented her makeup upon her face with spells. She was ready, from head to toe, to attend the wedding of Rodolphus Lestrange and Alivia Avery.

This wedding would be just a little awkward, given the fact that Tom Riddle - _Lord Voldemort_ \- had personally overseen the death of Alivia's traitor father. It was also made more awkward by the fact that Tom had refused offers to marry Alivia and had chosen Bellatrix instead. Owing to Avery's execution and the family's descent into relative shame, this wedding had been scaled down considerably in scope and scale. Only close family members and friends of the bride and groom were attending. Not even Bellatrix's parents or sister had been invited.

The door of Tom's flat opened, and there he stood looking handsome in formal robes. He smirked a little at Bellatrix and beckoned with one finger for her to enter. He shut the door behind her and murmured,

"My, but you do look magnificent."

"Thank you, My Lord," Bellatrix smiled. Her high black heels clacked on his floors as she stepped into his little foyer, and she assured him, "I quite like your hair parted that way."

"Oh. Thank you." He licked his lip and reached for her cheek. "Our wedding is going to put this wedding to shame, you know."

Bellatrix laughed a bit. "Well, that's only fitting. Ours is the wedding of the Dark Lord himself. This is the wedding of a traitor's daughter."

"I find myself rather desperately in want of you just now," said Tom, and Bellatrix cocked up an eyebrow playfully.

"But, My Lord, if we don't leave soon, we'll miss the ceremony, and I've got layers on, and -"

She shut up then, for he'd taken hold of her hand and smashed it against the front of his trousers. He pulled her close by the small of her back as he manipulated her fingers against his erection, and he mumbled,

"As I said, you look magnificent."

"Oh, my." Bellatrix gave him a broad grin and used both of her hands to make quick work of his trouser buttons. She pulled his cock out the instant she could and shoved at the waistband of his trousers. He tipped his head back a bit and whispered,

"Hurry. We'll be late."

"We shall leave as soon as you come for me, Master," Bellatrix hummed, and Tom growled a little noise of want. Bellatrix began to pump one hand on the shaft of his cock whilst the other one carefully fondled his balls. She weighed them, moved them around a little, and massaged the surrounding flesh. Her other hand stroked up around Tom's tip, her thumb giving special attention to the place on the bottom that drove him mad. Tom began to pant, his hands searching Bellatrix's arms and waist and back as he tried not to muss her. His cheeks went pink, then red, and he bucked his hips forward into Bellatrix's hand. She pumped her fist on his length and over his tip as he gasped and muttered,

"Bella."

"Master," she purred back. He wrenched his eyes shut and squeezed her shoulder and hip.

"Bella."

"My Lord…" She dragged her thumb over the slit on his tip, and that seemed to do him in. He shoved his hips into her hand, and suddenly he was coming all over her fingers and wrist. She sucked in air and tried to catch it all on her skin, but some of it leaped onto the ground. She smirked a bit as she watched him make a terrible mess, as his face twisted and his eyes clenched and his breath huffed. His come got absolutely everywhere except for Bellatrix's dress, which was a blessing. She used the lubrication of the come to massage his hypersensitive cock just a little, and he hissed and backed up a bit, shaking his head. Bellatrix watched him reach with a shaking hand into his robes and pull out his wand, which he aimed down at his cock.

"Are you cross with me?" she asked, feeling nervous because of the serious look on his face. He shook his head and scoffed,

"Hardly. _Tergeo__. __Scourgify__. _Oh, we really must go now."

Bellatrix worked to tuck his cleaned-up, softening cock back into his trousers, and as she buttoned them up, she requested,

"Please do me one favour?"

"Best make it quick," he said, turning up half his mouth. Bellatrix laughed a little and said,

"No, it's… will you think of this when you're walking her down the aisle?"

Tom's crooked smile faded, and he nodded, cupping Bellatrix's jaw and bending to kiss the lipstick she'd carefully preserved.

"I think about you all the time," he said in an almost grave voice. Bellatrix stared up at him, entranced, and he curled up his lips at her. He nodded and slipped his fingers through hers as he said, "We should go now."

"What if she's got plum calla lilies?" Bellatrix whispered. "I'll look like I'm copying."

"She won't have plum calla lilies," Tom said, looking amused. "Let's go."

* * *

It was almost sad, how few people were lined up in the Great Hall of Avery House for the ceremony. Bellatrix took a seat in the second row of chairs and crossed her ankles, studying the cardstock programme and sighing.

"Bellatrix?"

She looked up to see Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus' rather handsome brother, sliding into the seat beside her. She blinked and flashed him a little smile.

"Hello, Rabastan. He hasn't got you standing up for him?"  
"Oh. No, no wedding party at all," Rabastan said. He cleared his throat and put his hands on the knees of his pinstriped dress robe trousers and said quite deliberately, "The Dark Lord has been most benevolent in agreeing to attend my brother's wedding to the daughter of a traitor, and in not blaming Alivia for what happened."

Bellatrix gave a slow nod and affirmed in a voice loud enough for those around to hear,

"He is indeed a benevolent man. He is worthy of all of our respect and due our admiration, don't you agree?"

"Quite so." Rabastan's cheeks pinked, and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes as she smiled a little. She turned her attention then, for a lone violinist playing at the back of the hall had struck up a well-known tune that was commonly used on solemn wizarding occasions. Bellatrix and the other several dozen guests stood slowly as the doors to the hall opened. Bellatrix raised her eyebrows then, for in the doorway of the hall appeared Alivia Avery on the arm of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Her father, after all, was too dead to give her away. The man who had ordered his execution would have to do it for him.

As Alivia and Tom walked into the aisle space, Bellatrix observed just what choices Alivia had made for her wedding day. She was clad in rather ill-fitting silk, too bright white for the dark-paneled room. Her sleeveless dress made no sense for the cold, rainy day outside. Her hair was pulled into a braid down her back = an informal style for a wedding, Bellatrix thought. Her veil reached her elbows, and she carried a somewhat small bouquet of peach roses.

Bellatrix wouldn't have made any of those choices. At least she didn't have plum calla lilies.

Tom looked dignified and elegant as he strode with Alivia up the aisle. He flicked his eyes to Bellatrix and then winked at her, and she grinned back. At the end of the aisle, Tom put Alivia's hand into Rodolphus', and the aged Shacklebolt officiant began droning on about the critical importance of marriage. Tom sat in the front row, beside Mrs Avery, as Alivia and Rodolphus recited vows in numb voices. Mrs Avery tearfully completed a reading from _Thus Loveth I My Wife_, an old text. Next, Tom read a century-old poem on marriage. Everybody tried to follow along with the violin and the words in the programme then as they sang the traditional wedding song Purebloods insisted upon bringing up at every single ceremony.

"_We always go together, when we go, we go together, for it's you and I together in our home and in the world…"_ Bellatrix blinked quickly, feeling fatigued by the dull event. Fortunately, it was time then for the officiant to declare that Mr and Mrs Rodolphus and Alivia Lestrange were now man and wife, and they gave one another a hideously awkward kiss. Bellatrix actually winced a little at the way the two of them appeared to knock their faces together on accident. But she applauded right alongside Rabastan and Tom and Mrs Avery.

"Wasn't the ceremony lovely?" Mrs Avery asked, but she was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief and looked red and puffy. Bellatrix knew why. Her husband wasn't here. Well, her husband had been a traitor. Her husband had gone to the Ministry of Magic and had given them all sorts of information that could have landed Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black in Azkaban with matching Dementor's Kisses. Mrs Avery sniffled and said to Tom, "I couldn't possibly thank you enough for giving her away. For being here. For allowing this marriage to -"

"No thanks are necessary." Tom's voice was firm and a bit sharp. He pinched his lips and stared at Mrs Avery, who just nodded and gestured toward the door.

"Please, won't you join us for cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, and dancing in the ballroom?" she offered, and Bellatrix let Tom take her hand and lead her out of the hall. They walked through the stuffy corridors of Avery House until they reached a Tudor-style ballroom. Bellatrix studied the beams and sconces, the stained glass windows, and thought it was pretty enough, if simple. It was no Castle Rosier.

"What would you like to drink?" Tom asked her as they walked into the room. Bellatrix spied a bar in the corner, manned by a wizard she recognised as a distant Selwyn cousin of Alivia's, and she requested,

"A gin and tonic, if he can do it?"

"Gin?" Tom smirked. "I'm sure I can fetch you some gin. Be right back."

"Thank you," Bellatrix called after him as he walked away, and she thought then that it was so strange for her lord and master to be fetching her a drink. It wasn't so long ago that he'd been in his forties and she'd been utterly terrified of him, and the idea of him being young and handsome and fetching her drinks would have been laughable.

Now she made up a plate with cheese and crackers and sliced prosciutto, and when Tom came back with her gin and tonic, she gratefully accepted the drink and sipped at it. She nibbled her food and watched as Rodolphus and Alivia shuffled stiffly through their honorary first dance. Rabastan Lestrange came up to Tom during the dance and murmured something to him, bowed his head, and seemed very respectful. Tom just nodded, and when Rabastan left, Tom said in a quiet voice to Bellatrix,

"He's a solid one. Rabastan Lestrange."

"I think he is. He seems devoted to you," Bellatrix agreed. She passed her plate off to a wandering House-Elf, and as she finished her drink, she set it on a nearby high table. The dance floor opened up then, so Tom held out his hand and said,

"May I have this dance, Miss Black?"

"Of course, Master." Bellatrix grinned at him and let him lead her out to the cleared dance floor. The string quartet struck up a waltz, and Bellatrix struggled to maintain smooth movements that matched Tom's seemingly expert grasp of the dance. He guided her with careful but firm confidence, and he gazed into her eyes as he assured her,

"You really do look marvelous."

She smiled and felt weak. "Thank you."

"I really do want you in my bed tonight," he told her, and Bellatrix laughed. She and Tom had been intimate a few times in the last few weeks, and they were getting more and more practised at the task of making love. But they were still quick and clumsy, still new and fresh to it all. Bellatrix wanted him badly. She wanted to take a warm shower with him and slide her fingers over his soapy skin. She wanted to get on her knees and take him in her mouth. She wanted to feel his mouth on _her_ \- something he'd suggested once that he might do. She wanted to ride the erection he woke with in the morning until they were both sweaty and out of breath, and she wanted to be drilled into the pillows from behind.

"Oh." She gulped and stared up at him, and he frowned.

"Something wrong?"

"No." Bellatrix licked her painted lip and struggled to keep dancing. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. She had flushed wet between her legs, thinking of how badly she needed him. She shut her eyes for a moment and pursed her lips, and Tom finally seemed to understand.

"Bella?" he said in a quiet voice, and she cracked her eyes open to look up at him. He had a very self-satisfied smirk on his face, and after a quiet laugh, he said, "I'm going to make you feel very good tonight. I promise."

"Master." She whined the word, and she felt him squeeze her hand and tighten his fingers on her back. He licked his lip and said,

"Peach roses. No plum calla lilies. No one will accuse you of copying anything."

"No." She was grateful then for the change of subject, and she affirmed, "We haven't made any of the same choices, Alivia and I."

"Right down to the husband," Tom said, cocking up an eyebrow.

"Speaking of that," Bellatrix said, "You should dance with her."

"With Alivia?" Tom furrowed his brows. "I want to dance with you."

"One dance with the bride," Bellatrix suggested, "as a power move. You ordered her father executed because he was a traitor who betrayed you… yet you allowed her to marry your Death Eater. You kept her alive. You refused to marry her, but you'll dance with her. Giving her one single dance is an act of dominance, Master."

"You're right, of course… as you very often are." Tom huffed a breath as the song ended. He backed off of Bellatrix and bowed to her. He stood and said in a soft tone, "One dance with Alivia Lestrange. A power move. An act of dominance. And then I want to dance with you again, and then we're leaving, because I want to take you home and do all sorts of unspeakable things to you, Bellatrix."

Her cheeks went warm again, and she grinned broadly.

"Yes, Master."

**Author's Note: I do apologize for the delay in uploading. I had some personal issues preventing me from writing and uploading. Thank you for your patience. Thanks for reading and a huge thank-you for reviewing.**


	14. Certain

"Merlin's Beard, Bellatrix; how many drinks did you have?" Tom laughed as she stumbled through his bedroom, and she began to giggle as she said,

"I dunno. Four? Five? I lost count. That wedding was so, so dull. I can't believe Mrs Avery actually made you give a toast."

"She didn't make me," Tom grumbled, pulling off his bow tie and tossing it onto the armchair in the corner of the bedroom. "Nobody can _make_ me do anything; I'm Lord Voldemort."

"Yes. You are." Bellatrix sighed with a happy little grin and strode up to him, pushing his dress robe off and letting it fall heavily to the floor. She tried to unbutton his white dress shirt, but she was very evidently too drunk, so he smirked at her and pushed her fingers away. He made quick work of the buttons and informed her,

"I only had a small amount of firewhisky. I'm perfectly sober."

"That's wonderful." Bellatrix sounded dreamy, airy, and he snorted a laugh at her. He shucked his shirt, yanking it from his black trousers, and he kicked away his black dragonhide dress shoes. He unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down with his underwear. His cock, still limp but beginning to firm up from the very distant notion that he was going to be physical with Bellatrix, popped out and hung like a limb. Bellatrix whimpered and made a move to touch him. Tom sucked in a breath and let her do it, let her hands move on his firming length, his sensitised tip. He shut his eyes and whispered,

"Suddenly, I feel as drunk as you."

"Master." Bellatrix reached for his hand with one of hers, and she guided it to her waist. She begged him softly, "Will you undress me?"

"Yes." He was dizzy with want then as he reached around Bellatrix to undo the little black buttons of her formal dress. He chomped hard on his lip as he helped her slide the dress up and off, as he watched her reveal the strapless black corselette and crinoline she was wearing beneath the formalwear. She helped him find her way out of the confining undergarments, although freeing her from them was not the most graceful endeavour Tom had ever undertaken. It didn't help that Bellatrix was utterly sloshed and tripped a little as she stepped out of her satin knickers. She giggled madly and then leaned onto Tom, who was, by now, naked as the day he'd been born. He wrapped her up into his arms and helped her toward the bed, and she murmured,

"I want you so badly. Oh, I want you terribly."

"Do you?" Tom smiled to himself and climbed up onto the bed with her. He aimed his wand at her belly and mumbled a contraceptive charm, then set his wand down on the table beside the bed. He dragged his fingers though his hair and noted that her own hair was still done up in a formal chignon. Her makeup was still carefully preserved upon her face. She was so beautiful, he realised, whether she was dolled up like this or natural with her curls wild and her face bare. He reached for her and said, "You're so pretty, all the time."

She snorted a laugh and shook her head. "Are you certain you don't need glasses, Master?"

He frowned. He dragged his fingers slowly around the soft curve of her breast, beneath its round and lovely shape, and he pulled his thumb over her nipple. It peaked beneath his touch, and he smirked a little at that. He did it again, and the nipple hardened further, puckering and pinching at Tom's command. He looked up at Bellatrix, who had shut her eyes and seemed lost to the sensation of being caressed.

"Bella," Tom hummed, and she just nodded. He glanced down between her legs, at the tiny thatch of dark hair, and suddenly he thirsted for her. He sucked in air and squeezed a little at her breast, and he said softly, "Lie down on your back and spread your legs for me."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix said at once, opening her eyes and moving to obey him. She probably thought he was going to enter her without any further pretense, though nothing could be farther from the truth. He meant to make her squirm, to make her come harder than she'd ever done. He wanted to make her wail for him, to make her moan with agonised bliss.

He meant to put his face between her legs for the first time.

"Actually," Tom mused, "I've a better idea. I'd like for you to sit on my face."

"Sit on your…" Bellatrix stared at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted a few extra heads.

"Here." Tom moved to lie on his back, and he could feel his cock standing at attention from all the anticipation. He patted the blankets beside him and smiled a bit at Bellatrix. "Hands and knees, facing away from me, and I shall use my mouth on you."

Her eyes went round as saucers, but she finally began to arrange herself. She knelt with her knees on either side of Tom's chest, and she splayed her hands down by his calves. His cock poked her torso, so Tom shifted a little. He'd come himself if he were rubbing at her too much. He seized Bellatrix's waist and pulled her down toward him, squeezing the cheeks of her backside as hard as he possibly could.

And then it occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

He was completely inexperienced with this, with pleasuring a witch like this, and he would need to operate on instinct and feedback. He breathed in and smelled the musky, heady scent of her womanhood, and he murmured,

"You must tell me if it feels good, or if it doesn't."

"Mmmph. Yes, Master." Bellatrix dropped her head a little, and Tom pulled her arse cheeks down again. This time, he made contact with her clit, and he began to lick. He started with long, slow strokes that moved from the front toward her entrance, over and over. She was already a bit wet, and she tasted like metal… like licking a spoon. Tom licked again, and again and again, until Bellatrix was groaning and fluid drizzled from her body into Tom's mouth. He reached up with his left hand to caress the cheek of her arse, and with his right hand, he pushed two, then three fingers inside of her. He thrust them back and forth, pushing and pulling the fingers in tandem with squeezing motions on his other hand. He sped up the licking movements of his tongue until he was flicking deftly back and forth over her sensitive clit. Something compelled him to move his left hand from her round cheek to the button of her puckered arse, and he pressed there just hard enough to excite her without entering. All the while, Bellatrix moaned and whined. She was drunk, Tom knew, but she was sopping wet with need. He could taste the metallic tang of her excitement as it leaked from her entrance between his lips. She was mumbling frantically that it felt good, that it felt so very good.

As for his own body, he'd come alive so completely that he could hardly breathe. Tom was panting against Bellatrix's body and his fingers were shaking inside of her. He slid his fingers out of her and used both hands to rub and squeeze at the round, perfectly soft cheeks of her backside, and on instinct, he bucked his hips up a bit until the tip of his cock bumped her flat belly. He grunted, thinking that if he did that again he'd spill himself against her skin. He dug into his licking, committing to another bout of long, deep, smooth, slow strokes. Bellatrix seemed to thoroughly enjoy that, and Tom reached with both hands to yank at the sides of her walls, parting her womanhood and stretching her a little as he dragged his tongue over her time and again. She yelped and squealed, and she murmured helplessly,

"I think I'm going to come."

"You _think?_" Tom scoffed. He spanked one arse cheek hard and shoved three fingers rather roughly into her body. He pushed his thumb against the puckered button of her anus and massaged there with more pressure than before. Everything had become more forceful now, of its own accord. It just felt right to pound his fingers into her. It felt right to shift to his knuckle in his anal teasing. It just felt like the right thing to do to drag her clit between his lips and suckle on it. Bellatrix lost herself then. She nearly twisted out of Tom's grasp and flopped onto the bed, and she cried out so loudly that Tom smirked at the idea of his neighbours hearing.

Suddenly that tight button was cinching around his knuckle, winking with contractions of pleasure. Suddenly the walls of her womanhood were clenching rhythmically around his fingers, which were abruptly drenched with a sticky fluid. He tasted more of that pleasure, more of that satisfaction, and he felt the contractions on his lips. Tom wrenched his eyes shut and tried not to finish. He tried not to be driven over the edge by the ridiculous, hedonistic beauty of her orgasm. Instead he let her very slowly climb off of him, allowing her to collapse onto her back on the bed beside him, and he lay there staring at the ceiling with his cock aching for attention. His lips were swollen and covered in her, and he found he couldn't care less about the mess he'd made.

"You are delicious," he informed her, and Bellatrix just said in a blurry, dizzy sort of voice,

"That was very intensely pleasurable, Master."

"Why don't you climb back on?" he suggested, turning his face. Bellatrix looked shocked, but he turned up half his mouth and clarified, "Onto my cock."

"Oh." She seemed wobbly and tremulous as she made her way back over to him, facing him this time. She straddled him again, and he realised her knees must be aching by now. No matter. He'd be quick. He was on the verge of coming even as she settled her knees on either side of his hips. She sank down onto him and he hissed, relishing the tight, wet feel of her around his cock. She gasped, and he thought she must be awfully sensitive just now. But she gamely moved up and down in a way that caused her breasts to sway beautifully. She reached to hold onto Tom's shoulders, and she stared into his eyes as she bobbed. She shook her head and insisted,

"Rodolphus Lestrange would have been the worst husband in the world."

"He would have been fine," Tom smirked, brushing his knuckles down Bellatrix's arm, "but he never could have cared as deeply for you as I do."

Bellatrix faltered in her bobbing movements. Her eyes welled, and he knew why. He cared for her? Of course he did. Didn't she know how deeply he did? He urged her to keep moving, and after another thirty seconds of her wet tightness grinding against him, he came hard. He shut his eyes tightly and heard ringing in his ears, felt heat in his veins, and he huffed out a breath as his come leaped up in spurts into Bellatrix's body. He moaned her name five or six times, and then he just lay there in panting silence as she quietly and calmly got off of him. She lay beside him, and the two of them were absolute messes of bodily fluids as they relaxed. They needed showers, badly. This was more than a Scouring spell should handle. But right now Tom didn't feel like moving.

"You asked me to marry you to cement a relationship with families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight and to secure your position atop wizarding society," Bellatrix said suddenly, sounding a little less intoxicated than she'd sounded before. Tom frowned, looked at her, and said,

"Not exactly. If that was all that I'd wanted, I could have married Alivia Avery, or Nora Selwyn, or Greta Goyle… there are a number of suitable Pureblood witches I could have married to forge alliances and secure my authority. I proposed marriage to you in particular because I liked you in particular, and because it made me feel unwell to think of you marrying Rodolphus Lestrange. I was attracted to you; I wanted you."

Bellatrix was quiet then, and the two of them just lay there for a long while in the quiet. She reached for his hand after a bit, twining his fingers with his, and finally she whispered,

"I am in love with you."

"Are you?" Tom wasn't certain what to say to that. He had no idea what it felt like to truly love another human. He'd never loved anybody. Not a parent, certainly. Not a sibling, for he'd had none. No aunts or uncles or grandparents. He had never been in love. He had no idea what it really meant. So he sighed, turned his face to Bellatrix, and asked curiously, "Are you certain?"

She gave him a weak little smile and nodded. "Yes. I'm certain."

"How do you know?" he asked, and she licked her lip as she shrugged.

"It feels easy with you now. Natural. I miss you when you're not about. I feel safe with you. I feel myself with you. I enjoy myself far more when I'm with you than when I'm without you. I like just lying here, naked and dirty and vulnerable, alone with you. I'm attracted to you - but not just physically. I like your stories, and your humour, and your personality. I want to make you happy. I like the way you make me happy. I just… know."

"Oh." Tom's heart rate had accelerated a bit, and his throat had gone somewhat dry. He blinked a few times and cleared his throat. He was anxious now, for he, too, felt everything Bellatrix had described. Things did seem easy and natural with Bellatrix, as though the two of them had been made for one another, as though they had been intended to go together. It did seem as though she'd been handcrafted as his loving servant and companion. He did feel comfortable round her, as though she were the only one who could see him as an eighteen-year-old aspirational young man with vulnerabilities and hobbies and cracks. Everyone else saw the wizard who had ordered Yaxley to kill Avery, and nothing else. Bellatrix saw the Tom who attempted to learn the latest dance moves in his living room whilst the Wireless played and the two of them giggled their way through too much white wine.

Was he in love with her? Surely not. Surely he couldn't be as stupid and foolish as that. Surely he would never allow himself to actually fall in love, to careen so carelessly into the depths of vulnerability. He'd chosen her for his wife because she was a very desirable mate, but she was right in that he had serious political motivations for getting married in the first place.

"Master?"

Tom jolted and stared at Bellatrix, who had sat up and was pulling pins from her hair. She smiled a little and said,

"If I don't get in the shower now, I'm going to fall asleep."

"Oh. Mmm-hmm. Go ahead. I'll go after you."

"Thank you." Bellatrix bent and kissed his chest, and as she climbed off the bed, Tom brushed his fingertips over the place she'd kissed. She looked beautiful as she strode naked into the bathroom, and when the door shut, Tom shut his eyes and licked his lip, tasting the metal of her body's fluids. He groaned a little at the memory of what he'd done to her, and he squeezed a little at the blanket.

No, he thought. He wasn't so stupid as to fall in love. But whatever he did feel toward her was strong and powerful and wonderful. There would never be enough of her. Luckily for him, their wedding was just around the corner, and he had a sneaking suspicion Bellatrix was going to make for a very beautiful bride.

**Author's Note: Whew! Better hope that shower Bellatrix is taking is cold after **_**that**_ **lemon, right? And the wedding is just around the corner! ****Yayyyyy****! So, there's no chance Dumbledore or the Ministry or an inside traitor would let anything bad happen before the wedding, right? RIIIIIIGHT?!**


	15. Dragged

Bellatrix strode out of Twillfit and Tattings and out into Diagon Alley, grinning like a madwoman.

"Oh, I can't believe it's _tomorrow,_" she squealed, seizing Narcissa's hand and squeezing. "My wedding is _tomorrow._"

"Your gown looks absolutely fantastic," Narcissa affirmed. "I hope they deliver it carefully to Castle Rosier."

"They'll be careful," Druella Rosier said, "or they shall face my wrath. I am the mother of the bride; I will not stand for any incompetence now."

Bellatrix giggled and shoved her curls out of her face. She and her sister and her mother walked merrily up the street for a while, but then Bellatrix froze. She saw a face she recognised at once, and she scowled.

"Is that that awful Ministry wench?" hissed Druella Black, and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes.

"Matilda Beaulieu," she snarled. Tall, thin Matilda, in her mauve robes, snaked her way through the crowd of shoppers and approached Bellatrix. Narcissa released Bellatrix's hand and made a little noise of discomfort. Matilda stood before Bellatrix and cocked up one eyebrow.

"Miss Black. What brings you to Diagon Alley?"

"Oh, I think you know," Bellatrix scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She tipped her head. "What do you want, Ms Beaulieu?"

Matilda licked her plum-coloured lip and said, "You're getting married tomorrow. We would hate to interfere."

"Then don't interfere," Bellatrix said plainly. Matilda smiled just a little and nodded.

"We have your husband-to-be in custody," she declared, "for conspiracy to commit murder. It would be best, for his sake, if you came with me and had a few conversations."

Bellatrix's heart raced. They had Tom in custody? For conspiracy to commit murder? But then she paused in her panicked thought and realised something. If they had Tom, that meant that they had enough evidence to bring him in against his will. If they had him, they had proof of his crime. Otherwise, he would never go willingly with them. If they had proof of Tom's crime, then why would Bellatrix be needed for questioning? What good would her presence at the Ministry possibly do for Tom?

None.

She shook her head wildly and insisted,

"Matilda, you haven't got him. If you had him, you wouldn't be here, alone in Diagon Alley, intercepting me after my final wedding gown fitting, attempting to convince me to help exonerate my future husband by coming with you. If you had him, you'd be here with six Aurors dragging me in against my will. So you haven't got him. This is a trap, or your weak attempt at a trap. This is pathetic, is what it is."

Beside Bellatrix, Narcissa looked amazed. Druella seemed shocked and frightened. Matilda, for her part, just smirked a little at Bellatrix and nodded slowly.

"You're right," she said at last. "We haven't got him in custody right this moment, and there is no tricking you. Not really. But we know what you do. We know what he does. And the time for… dragging people in against their will… that time is coming fast. Soon enough, you'll be dragged, Miss Black. You and Tom Riddle both."

"Get back to me about that when it becomes more of a reality for you, Ms Beaulieu," Bellatrix nodded, chomping her lip. She made a shooing motion with her hand and said snidely, "Begone, Matilda."

Matilda whirled on the ball of her foot and stomped off, her fists clenched at her sides. Bellatrix watched her go, her heart thudding in her chest and her breath wheezing between her teeth.

"Matilda!" she called, and Matilda whirled round. Bellatrix waited for Matilda to come close again, and when she did, Bellatrix shrugged. "Murder of whom?"

"I beg your pardon?" Matilda raised her brows.

"You said you had him in on conspiracy to commit murder. Whose murder?" Bellatrix demanded. Matilda scoffed, and as she turned away again, she told Bellatrix,

"Amon Avery."

Bellatrix shut her eyes as Matilda stalked away, and she said,

"I have to go. Now."

"Where are you going?" Druella demanded, and Bellatrix just said,

"I'm going to him. Listen - I'll see you at home tonight, Mum. I have to go."

"Right. Come, Narcissa, dear. Out of her way." Druella grabbed her youngest daughter and pulled her out of Bellatrix's path. Bellatrix quickly Disapparated, a resounding _crack_ signalling her disappearance from Diagon Alley. She came to outside of Malfoy Manor, and she dashed through the gardens and up to the front door. She pounded the heavy knocker on the door five or six times and waited, and then the door creaked open.

"Miss Bellatrix Black," said Dobby, the Malfoys' House-Elf. "Come in, miss."

"I need to see the Dark Lord," Bellatrix insisted, hoping with all her might that he was here. She barged past Dobby and up the foyer steps, and the House-Elf called after her,

"He is in his office, miss!"

Bellatrix rushed down the corridor that led to Tom's office, and when she reached it, she pounded her fist on the door. He might be in a meeting, she thought. He might have someone with him. But she couldn't care right now. She needed to see him. She pounded again, and then the door quickly swung open and Tom yanked her into his office. He slammed the door shut and pressed Bellatrix against the wall just inside, planting a hand on either side of her shoulders and staring straight into her eyes.

"_Legilimens__._"

Bellatrix gasped as he invaded her mind. He shot straight into the scene in Diagon Alley where Matilda had intercepted Bellatrix and had attempted to convince her that the Ministry had Tom, that she should go with Matilda. Tom yanked himself out of Bellatrix's mind and crushed her mouth with his. She grunted onto his mouth and put her hands against his chest, and his fingers flew up into her curls. He whispered onto her lips,

"Oh, you good, good girl. You didn't even think of going with that awful woman."

"I knew that if they had you, they wouldn't send her alone to retrieve me. I knew they had nothing… nothing but suspicion. But they know about Avery."

"Correction." Tom stood up straight and adjusted the hem of his crisp black robe. "They know that Avery's dead. They know nothing beyond that. Trust me; they tried. They came here and interrogated me. I gave them nothing and they've got nothing. They think I must have been involved somehow, but they've no proof. That being said, I rather wish we could just go away for a while after the wedding until the heat's off for a bit. I should like to get the Ministry off my tail."

"Go away?" Bellatrix rubbed at his chest and shook her head. "Go where, Master?"

He shrugged, tipping his head to the side. "I dunno. Florence. Bruges. Zurich. Rome."

"The Continent," Bellatrix affirmed. "Just like the last time you lived this age."

Tom chewed his lip and shook his head. "The last time I lived this age, I didn't have a Ministry attempting to try me for crimes my older self had committed. I didn't have a Ministry saying '_You, Time-Traveling Tom Riddle, are dangerous and guilty, and we are shipping you off to __Azkaban__._' And I did not have you."

"But what if someone tries to take your place in your absence?" Bellatrix fretted. Tom shook his head and scoffed.

"I don't know if I can trust any of my Death Eaters, Bella. And if I go take a break on the Continent to shake Ministry heat and they try to usurp me, I shall kill them. Anyone who betrays me. Do you doubt that? You'd kill them, too, wouldn't you?"  
"All of them, My Lord." Bellatrix bowed her head, and he tipped her chin up so she would look at him. He raised his brows and said,

"I can not become a strong and powerful Lord Voldemort with Matilda Beaulieu chasing you down in Diagon Alley. I can not become a strong and powerful Lord Voldemort with some of my Death Eaters ratting me out to Ministry officials. And I can not become a strong and powerful Lord Voldemort, frankly, without more skill and confidence. And it seems that my older self gained that on the Continent. Yes, I think a trip to… to… Rome is order. Rome. Let's go to Rome."

"To Rome." Bellatrix just stared at him, licking her lip carefully. "We could call it a honeymoon. An extended honeymoon. The Dark Lord is deserving of a particularly luxurious and lengthy honeymoon, don't you think?"

"Right. A honeymoon. I hadn't considered phrasing it like that." Tom blinked a few times. He nodded. "I'll make the announcement during my thank-you toast tomorrow at the wedding. I won't say where we're going, only that we shall miss everyone terribly whilst we're away on our honeymoon."

"It makes people less likely to pull any funny business if they know you're coming back," Bellatrix pointed out, "and remember that my father controls the movement's finances. You'll be married to me, which will make his loyalty to you unshakable. That means no one will have access to your money while you're gone."

"We must play Muggle," Tom told her. "We shall have to stay in Muggle hotels, eat in Muggle restaurants. You think the Italian and British Ministries don't have spies that communicate? I want to be out of the British Ministry's view for some time. That means you and I fake it for a little while."

"I've absolutely no idea how to live like a Muggle, Master," Bellatrix informed him. "The best I can do is flick one of their light switches; I've never been near one of their automobiles, let alone eaten in one of their restaurants."

"You'll be fine. You'll be with me, and I had to learn entirely too much about Muggles by force," Tom said. He took her hand and pulled her knuckles up to his lips. "We shall go to Rome and make the best of all this. We shall eat pasta until we burst. We shall explore all the relics of the Muggles' ancient societies. We shall walk on sun-kissed cobblestone streets, holding hands in public like fools. And when we come back to Britain, the Ministry will have moved on, like a dog distracted by a squirrel."

"Do you really believe all of that, Master?" Bellatrix asked hesitantly, and he nodded.

"I have no choice but to believe all of that right now, Bella. I've got traitors on the inside and predators on the outside. I have traveled through time. I am getting married tomorrow."

"You are getting married tomorrow." She smiled then, and he huffed a breath and bent to kiss her. His lips were soft on hers, and his breath was warm on her cheek as he caressed her jaw with his fingers and said,

"Plum calla lilies. You will walk down the aisle to me carrying plum calla lilies."

Bellatrix squeezed at the front of his robe and leaned her cheek against his, thinking that he was the most wondrous wizard in the entire world. He was her lord and master, her very best friend, and the man with whom she had fallen deeply in love… and tomorrow she would marry him.

**Author's Note: Thank you for your patience with updates. I am struggling through a mental health crisis at the moment. Writing is tough, but I will update when I can. Thank you for your understanding.**

**The next chapter will be the wedding. I'm looking forward to ****finally ****seeing that come to fruition. Afterward, we'll see Tom and Bellatrix head off on their honeymoon, barring any interference from enemies.**

**Thank you for reading and please ****do review****.**


	16. Vows

"Are you nervous?" Tom stared at his own reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall of the parlour where he was getting ready. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as he talked to himself. "No. I'm not nervous."

He ought to be nervous. He had been yanked through decades of time. He had been meant to go on a date with Evangeline Avery the day that he'd been pulled away from 1945. He'd been working in Borgin and Burkes. Now he was attempting to climb as Lord Voldemort, a position the version of himself in his forties had cemented. Now he was marrying to solidify political affiliations with members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight - the Blacks, the Rosiers, the Crabbes, and so many others. He was marrying to rise as a young man with a powerful and vicious wife beside him.

Today he was marrying Bellatrix, and so he ought to be nervous. But he was not nervous, for some reason. Instead, he felt his heart thrumming with an anxiety that more neatly mirrored excitement. His stomach was twisting and his fingers were trembling, but the nerves were more of an anxiety to see the wedding come to fruition than an actual fear of what was to occur. Tom struggled a little with his buttons, and he considered for a moment reaching for his wand and casting a charm to steady his hands.

He brought his bow tie under the neckline of his crisp white shirt, and he shortened the left side of the bow tie. He crossed the left side over the right and began the task of actually tying the knot, folding and pinching just so until he had a perfectly tied white bow. His hands were still shaking like mad as he studied his reflection in the mirror and wondered whether his hair looked all right. He'd parted his dark waves on the side and used Sleekeazy's to smooth them. He licked his dry bottom lip and admired the job he'd done shaving this morning. He looked all right, he reckoned. Poor Bellatrix would have a hell of a lot more to do to get ready than he'd had.

Tom tucked his wand into the breast wand holster inside his tuxedo robe, and he huffed a breath as he stared down at his shiny dragon hide shoes. Did they need a quick Scour? No; they were all right. He shut his eyes and wondered what Bellatrix was doing just now. Where was she? Upstairs, probably. Castle Rosier was laid out in a labyrinthine fashion, with multiple kitchens and parlours to spare. Druella's old apartment was upstairs, Tom knew, and if he had to guess, Bellatrix had been taken there. It was drizzling rain today, so the ceremony was taking place in the castle's Great Hall, with dinner and dancing in the extravagant ballroom. Guests would be shuffled straight to their seats by the castle's cadre of House-Elves and by the hosts, Bellatrix's maternal grandparents, the Rosiers.

Bellatrix was having Narcissa as her maid of honour, with her little Rosier second cousins as tiny bridesmaids. But Tom had decided against having groomsmen of any kind. He was Lord Voldemort. He needed no friendship, no accompaniment. The officiant of the ceremony was old Englebert Shacklebolt, a man who had been in his seventies even when Tom had known him in 1945. He was qualified to file all the necessary Ministry paperwork, and was the standard officiant in the Pureblood community at the present time. Even in Tom's time, haute weddings had been performed by Shacklebolt.

Now Tom knew he had to leave the parlour where he'd been getting ready, and he finally opened the door and walked out into the corridor. The walls were heavily paneled with dark wood, and there were elaborate carpets running down the white marble floors. Tom strode down the carpet, past portraits that began to gossip.

"There's the groom!"

"It's _him_ \- the one they say is trying to foment a movement of sorts!"

"What do they call him? I remember. Lord Villemort."

"It's _Voldemort._" Tom flicked his eyes to the portrait in question but kept walking. He smirked a little and strode ever onward, past a painting of a mother trying and failing to console her crying infant. He turned a corner and heard voices murmuring, the low drone and buzz of conversation. Guests. He sighed, all of this feeling quite real now. He opened a paneled door in the wall and walked into the Great Hall, which went hush as he shut the door behind him. He nodded to Yaxley, to Mulciber, to Rabastan Lestrange. He coursed his eyes over the rest of the room and was pleasantly surprised when about thirty wizards in their seats bowed their heads. His Death Eaters were showing respect. Tom smiled a little and walked up to the hunched, aged Englebert Shacklebolt and said as warmly as he could manage,

"Thank you so very kindly, sir, for officiating our marriage today."

"Have you got the rings? Best double check," Shacklebolt said in reply, and Tom curled up half his mouth as he reached into his pocket and felt two cold rings there. Bellatrix's was black titanium, and Tom's was unadorned platinum. He gave a crisp nod to Shacklebolt and affirmed,

"I have them, sir."

"Well, good. I think the processional is about to begin any moment now." Shacklebolt gave Tom a smile weakened by age and asked, "Are you happy, boy? So often in arranged marriages, the wizard is utterly terrified. But you seem calm and collected. You must rather like the witch."

"I like her more than I would have ever thought possible, sir," Tom said, and Shacklebolt broke into a toothy smile at that. He nodded.

"Then you shall have a long and contented life together," he said. "Give your mother-in-law a nice smile, will you?"

Tom turned to see Druella sitting in the front row, wringing her gloved hands together and looking quite anxious. She flashed Tom a nervous smile where she sat beside Andromeda, and Tom waved and nodded at her. Druella adjusted her hairstyle and pushed her glasses up her nose. This was all so strange, Tom thought. He'd gone to school with Cygnus and Druella. Now he was marrying their daughter. Time travel did strange things to people. Not that he minded, of course.

The string quartet began to play then, a piece in the key of C Sharp Minor that seemed, at first, not suitable for a wedding. It was slow and solemn and even a bit sad. But Tom smiled to himself, knowing that Bellatrix would have chosen the music, and that anything too bouncy would have felt off to her. The back doors of the Great Hall opened, and people went completely silent. As the string quartet played on, Narcissa came walking slowly in, carrying a small bouquet of plum calla lilies. She wore cream-coloured material with a high waist and long sleeves, simple but elegant. Her blonde hair was arranged in a milkmaid braid across her head. On either side of Narcissa, there was a tiny child, a bridesmaid in miniature. They wore poufy cream gowns and had their hair in ringlets, and they each clutched a single plum calla lily. They waddled beside Narcissa as she walked slowly up the aisle. When she neared the front, Narcissa pointed to her cousin, the mother of the two girls, and they went toddling away. Narcissa continued up to the front, for she was to assist with Bellatrix's train and such.

Bellatrix.

Tom stared at the doors, clutching his hands tightly together before him. Everyone rose to their feet in the seats, and the string quartet began to play something much more resembling a march. Tom's breath quickened in his nostrils as Bellatrix's figure appeared in the doorway on the arm of her father. She was perfect. She was _perfect._

Her skirts were wide and full, and her gown appeared to be crafted of silk and beading and lace. Her veil hung over her face and went down her back, down onto her long train. In her right hand, she held a massive bouquet of deep plum calla lilies, and her left arm was threaded through her father's. Cygnus was already teary, Tom could tell. As the two of them started down the aisle toward Tom, he had to resist the urge to dart out toward Bellatrix and snatch her. He wanted to grab her and pull her near him and kiss her until her lips were bruised. Why didn't he do that? He panted a little where he stood, watching her move with magnificent, stoic elegance down the aisle to him. Finally, _finally__, _she reached him, and she grinned at him through her veil. Cygnus handed Bellatrix's left hand over to Tom, and Tom squeezed at her as he nodded and said to Cygnus,

"Thank you."

"She was never mine to give; she has always been her own witch. She chose you as much as you chose her," Cygnus said softly, "My lord. My master."

"Cygnus." Tom nodded again as the music finished off triumphantly. Cygnus went to sit down then, kissing Druella on the cheek as he did and taking her hand. People took their seats, and Tom kept hold of Bellatrix's hand. Shacklebolt spoke in a surprisingly booming voice then.

"Welcome! Friends and family, we have come together to bear witness as Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black are joined in mind, body, and soul in a magical bond of marriage. Today is a day to celebrate Tom and Bellatrix. Two halves of a whole, they come together in this ceremony to forge a union of magical connection. May their affection for one another last forever, along with their happiness. And now, we will have readings from the parents of the bride. Cygnus, if you will."

Cygnus Black III came up to the front of the Great Hall and walked over to the podium where a thick tome had a ribbon marking a spot. He opened the book and cleared his throat rather awkwardly before reading,

"_I never __did know_ _I was in love until I felt the aching loss of him. It was not until I was without him __that __I knew what I had become with him. And thus I wished I had been more aware of his significance in my life when I'd had him. I would have thanked him at every opportunity for his __very __presence. I would have made a point of being with __him,_ _if only to breathe the same air whilst I could do so. For the time given to us to spend together is so __very __brief, and we must make of it what we can. We must hold this fleeting, temporary moment and turn it into what bliss we may._"

Tom was struck by that reading, for some reason. He blinked and stared at Bellatrix as her father finished reading. She smiled at him through the veil, and he suddenly realised just how badly he did not ever want to leave her. What if he time traveled again? What if she died, and he didn't? He couldn't lose her. He could never lose her.

"Druella? The second reading, please."

Tom jolted as the parents traded places and Druella took her place at the podium. She was weepy as she made her way through her assigned poetry reading.

"_If you and I were waves upon a rocky, sandy beach_

_I would crash right up behind you, just as near as I could reach…_"

Tom studied Bellatrix's face through her veil, examining the dewy lipstick she wore, the way she'd lightly lined her eyes and had blushed her cheeks.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, as her mother droned on with the poem. Bellatrix squeezed Tom's fingers, having handed her calla lilies off to Narcissa. She dragged her thumb over his and glanced out to the crowd, and she whispered back,

"All of your Death Eaters are watching their master get married."

He felt a sudden shock of want for her, a sudden burst of need. Druella mercifully finished the poem and sat back down, and then Englebert Shacklebolt announced that it was time for the vows and the rings. This was a slightly different order of events than had happened at Rodolphus' wedding to Alivia, which had been rushed.

"Tom and Bellatrix," said Shacklebolt, "The estate of wedlock is a magical one, one not to be entered lightly but under the guidance of infinite wisdom and the inspiration and hope of true love. Dear Ones! You are entering into that relationship which is the expression of the uniting, harmonising power of mutual admiration. Marriage is the uniting of two souls. When there is a true bond such as this, it is proper that public acknowledgement be made. We are here to bear witness of your entering into this relationship of husband and wife. Let anyone who finds reason for this marriage not to take place speak now or hold their peace forever."

Tom glared out into the crowd and dared someone to say that he ought not marry Bellatrix. But, of course, nobody said anything. Everyone just stared up with pleasant expressions. Bellatrix flashed Tom a nervous little smile and squeezed his hand again. Shacklebolt then asked,

"Tom Riddle, will you seek to repair any harm done to Bellatrix? Will you be honest with her in all things and support her in times of distress? And will you temper your words and actions with love?"  
"I will," Tom said quite confidently. Bellatrix grinned. Shacklebolt repeated the questions then for her.

"Bellatrix Black, will you seek to repair any harm done to Tom Riddle? Will you be honest with him in all things and support him in times of distress? And will you temper your words and actions with love?"

"I will," Bellatrix nodded rather vehemently. Her fingers shook inside of Tom's. He manipulated her fingers with his and choked a little laugh at the fact that they'd just said their first vows. Shacklebolt asked,

"May I have the rings, Mr Riddle?"

"Yes, of course." Tom released Bellatrix's hand then, finally realising that everyone had been watching them hold onto one another. He pulled the rings out of his pocket and held them out to Shacklebolt, who took them and pulled out his wand. He held the rings in his trembling left palm and aimed his knotty wand at them. He began murmuring charms and spells to bind the rings to one another with a Marriage Charm. Then he spoke.

"These rings are now charmed with the binding powers of air for shared hopes and dreams, fire for passion, water for harmony and healing, and earth for strength. Let them be magical symbols of this union forever."

He handed Tom's ring to Bellatrix and Bellatrix's ring to Tom, and he said,

"Bellatrix Black, do you promise to give Tom your love and fidelity, to honour him, to share laughter and joy, to support him in times of difficulty, to dream and hope together now and forever?"

"I do," Bellatrix said, sounding quite emotional.

"Then place the ring upon your husband," said Shacklebolt. Tom held out his hand, and Bellatrix shook ferociously as she slipped the ring onto his finger. He flexed his hand a few times, feeling the weight of the ring, and he smirked at her.

"Tom Riddle, do you promise to give Bellatrix your love and fidelity, to honour her, to share laughter and joy, to support her in times of difficulty, to dream and hope together now and forever?"

"Yes, I do," Tom said firmly. Shacklebolt smiled and said,

"Then place the ring upon your wife."

Tom took Bellatrix's hand, slid on her black shiny ring right against her diamond engagement ring, and he brought her knuckles up to his lips to kiss. He stared at her through her veil and felt something so powerful he wasn't sure what to do with it. He gulped and listened as the string quartet struck up the traditional Pureblood wedding song everybody always sang, and blinked as people droned out the lyrics.

"_We always go together, when we go, we go together, for it's you and I together in our home and in the world…"_

Finally, the song ended, and Shacklebolt proudly declared,

"It is my honour to present, as man and wife, united in magical marriage, Mr and Mrs Tom and Bellatrix Riddle. Go ahead and kiss your bride."

Tom peeled back Bellatrix's veil, carefully arranging it behind her head. He took her jaws in his hands and sighed, shaking his head in disbelief at what they'd done. He lowered his mouth to hers and pressed his lips against hers. Bellatrix was shaking beneath him, so he wrapped one arm round her as people applauded and hollered and the strings struck up. He kissed her gently, carefully, and then he deepened it a little. He wanted more, right now. He wanted so much more from her than he could get out here in public. He wanted to take her to a parlour and somehow get this dress off of her and put himself inside of her. He wanted to kiss her until they couldn't breathe.

"Master." Bellatrix finally pulled away, and he realised he'd been snogging her right there in front of everyone. She laughed and held his hand, swinging their clenched fists a little and muttering, "Quite a show."

"Sorry." His cheeks went hot as they made their way down the aisle. She appeared to be in a hoop skirt, so she moved carefully, and he had to keep a fair distance from her. As he passed various Death Eaters, he gave them pleasant looks and nods. It wasn't until he and Bellatrix were out in the corridor that he found the courage to just press her up against the wall and kiss her hard, knowing she'd sealed her makeup with magic. She grunted as he pushed against her voluminous skirts and coursed his hand up and down her structured bodice.

"Too many clothes," he complained, and she giggled onto his mouth as she assured him,

"Tonight, I'll be naked."

"Yes, you will be," he promised her, kissing her again. She laughed into the kiss and held her flowers behind his head as he kissed her, but then her sister Narcissa's voice said awkwardly,

"Bella? Erm… we need to get your train off for the reception."

Tom pulled away and winked at Bellatrix, who panted against the wall, pink-cheeked and shaking her head.

A half hour later, he and Bellatrix were seated at the head table in the ballroom, and the lamb and potato meal was just appearing on the plates. A salad appeared in bowls beside the plates, and the glasses filled with wine. People began to chat at their tables as they ate, and Bellatrix smiled at Tom, looking lovely.

"I think now's a good time," she told him, and he nodded his agreement. He rose and pulled out his wand, pressing it to his throat and whispering,

"_Sonorus__._" Then he spoke in an Amplified tone and said, "My friends. Our dearest family. Thank you all so very much for coming."

People clapped politely, and Tom waited for the applause to die down. He reached for Bellatrix's hand and said,

"When I traveled through time from 1945 to 1970, I had precisely no idea that I would meet such a brilliant and beautiful witch as Bellatrix Black. But here she is, and today she is my wife. I am, truly, the luckiest wizard in all the world."

There was more applause, and Bellatrix looked abashed as Tom kissed her knuckles. He spoke once more.

"I should like to be able to say that Bella and I will miss all of you terribly whilst we're on our honeymoon, but I confess I expect to be rather caught up in her presence and will probably find it difficult to miss much of anything."

People laughed then, and Tom gave a jovial smile, his heart picking up. They mustn't know why the two of them were fleeing to Rome. They mustn't know that it was because Tom was afraid of the Ministry, that he was afraid of Dumbledore, that he was afraid of his own Death Eaters. They must think the trip was just a honeymoon.

"I promise we shall take many photographs - perhaps more than have been taken today - and we shall bring home all sorts of stories to share," Tom said. "But today, we are grateful to be with you, to dine with you and to dance with you. Thank you all indeed for showing us your love and your loyalty. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" called the crowd, and people raised their glasses. Tom sat back down as people began to eat again, and he asked Bellatrix,

"How was that?"

"Perfect. As always. You're always perfect, somehow," Bellatrix said. She tucked into her lamb then, flashing him a cheeky little grin and saying, "Your House-Elf cooks it better."

"Ha. _Our_ House-Elf." Tom shut his eyes at the thought of Bellatrix waking up beside him every single morning. Her things were already moved; they'd been moved by the House-Elves earlier today. She was to live with him in his luxurious flat. But first they would go to Rome. They would wake up in hot, sunny hotel rooms together. They would walk hand-in-hand down winding, narrow streets. They would -

"Master?"

"You won't be able to call me that," he said, jolted out of his reverie. Bellatrix scowled at him.

"In Rome?" she whispered, and he scoffed.

"Master? People will think we're into sexual bondage or something."

Bellatrix looked terribly confused. She shook her head and insisted, "I don't call you… _Tom._"

"Well, you'll have to do so, just for a little while," he said. "Finish your food. We have to do the first dance."

He had forgotten about the ceremonial cake cutting, which they had to do in slow motion for the photographer, and _then_ they did the first dance whilst people ate their cake. It was so terrifically awkward, Tom thought, to waltz with her in a stiff pose whilst everyone watched. And then she danced with her father whilst Tom stood there staring on like a complete idiot. Finally the dance floor was opened to everyone, and Tom wrapped Bellatrix up in his arms again.

"This dress is really something," he told her, and she laughed.

"You hate the skirts."

"They're a bit much for dancing, but you do look spectacularly beautiful," he said. She grinned and glanced back toward the crowd that was milling about.

"Ought you not speak with your Death Eaters, Master?"

"I will," he vowed. "First, I am going to dance with my wife."

"Your wife." Bellatrix breathed the word, looking and sounding overwhelmed. She shook her head and blinked. "Wife."

"How do you feel about being my wife?" Tom asked her, and Bellatrix's eyes welled heavily. She shrugged and told him,

"I think it's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to any person, ever."

"Hyperbole," Tom teased, but Bellatrix licked her lip and said seriously,

"My life begins today."

Suddenly Tom didn't feel like teasing her anymore. He stared down at her face and remembered the reading Cygnus had done during the ceremony. _The time given to us to spend together is so __very __brief, and we must make of it what we can. We must hold this fleeting, temporary moment and turn it into what bliss we may._ Tom remembered dropping the clock pendant in the shop in 1945 and panicking, thinking he'd be sacked for breaking it. He remembered touching the pieces and being yanked forward in time. He remembered meeting Bellatrix and being terribly impressed by her. He remembered the first time they'd kissed, in his kitchen. He remembered touching her, wanting her, needing her. He remembered the way she'd explained to him how she knew that she loved him.

"Bellatrix," he said in a soft voice, and she nodded up at him as they swayed to the music. He pulled her a little closer, gazed into her dark, round eyes, and became more sure of himself than he could ever remember being.

"I am in love with you."

"Are you?" Bellatrix choked out a tearful whisper, and Tom realised they'd just reversed the exchange from when she'd confessed this to him. It was mutual. That was all. Still, Bellatrix blinked out a tear and whispered, "Are you certain?"

"Yes," he nodded, squeezing her hand and tightening his fingers on her back. "I'm certain. I'm going to make you happy. I promise it."

"You already do, My Lord," Bellatrix told him, and suddenly Tom couldn't care who was watching him. He didn't care about her parents' eyes, or his Death Eaters' gazes, or old Shacklebolt, or any of them. He couldn't care. He stopped dancing and seized Bellatrix's face in his hands, and he kissed her for all he was worth, right there on the dance floor. He heard someone wolf whistle, and he ignored it. She sucked in air through her nostrils and pawed at his chest in surprise, but eventually she settled into the kiss and moved her hands to his face. She held him and he held her, and he kissed her for keeps, strategising ways to get her wedding dress off of her.

**Author's Note: I have schizoaffective disorder and am not doing well. Thank you for your patience, understanding, and kind words. I appreciate your readership and feedback and hope you are enjoying the story.**


	17. Aeroplane

"I do not mean to question you," Bellatrix said as they stood on the sidewalk outside the terminal at Heathrow Airport, "but are you _certain_ this is the best way to get to Rome? Surely we could take Portkeys, or puddle-jump Apparate, without the Ministry knowing."

"As I've told you, Bellatrix," Tom said in a patient voice, holding his Expanded suitcase in his left hand, "it is vitally important that this trip be viewed by every single person in the British magical community as nothing more than a honeymoon. If the heat's to come off, then we can't be tracked. Not even your parents know where we're going. Anyone can be questioned, including someone we pay for a Portkey. I worry about Apparition over those distances… Splinching. The Muggles have apparently got this passenger aircraft technology rather down pat, and if it were to crash, we'd use magic to save ourselves."

Bellatrix shut her eyes and shook her head. "I don't want to live like a Muggle for who knows how long."

Tom snorted a laugh. "It won't be so bad, Bella. Honestly, it won't be so bad. I've loads of Muggle money for us; your father got us all squared away with pounds sterling, and then I traded a great lot of that for Italian _lire_. We're going to stay in a premium hotel and eat at fine restaurants. Honestly, Bellatrix… it's going to be grand."

"Grand." Bellatrix huffed a breath and reached for his hand. "Right. Grand. Let's go inside, then."

He led her through the doors of the airport terminal, and she squeezed her Expanded suitcase handle more tightly. She gulped as a swarm of Muggles moved round them. Bellatrix had tried to dress in the fashion of a modern Muggle woman, styling her hair in a long, straightened arrangement parted down the middle. She wore a long-sleeved black dress with a high neck and a short hem, along with boots that reached her knees and had flat heels. Tom wore a grey tweed suit, apparently cut in the style the Muggles enjoyed these days. As they moved through the terminal, Bellatrix smelled the reeking stench of cigarette smoke, and she coughed.

"Awful stench," she noted, and Tom laughed a little.

"Get used to it," he said. "Even in my time, they all smoked. Cigarettes are like a sixth finger for some of them. A complete addiction. They'll be smoking on the aeroplane, too, sorry to say."

"Disgusting," Bellatrix spat. "They're disgusting."

Tom smirked at her and walked straight up to a long counter that appeared to be staffed by a mix of blue-suited Muggle men and women. Tom strode with confidence up to a middle-aged man and said,

"Hello, sir. I rang yesterday evening to reserve two seats aboard Flight Eight Sixty-Two to Rome. The name is Riddle. Tom Riddle."

"Mr Riddle. Let me see if they've printed your tickets for you." The man pulled out a folder and opened it, pawing through envelopes with writing on them. "Riddle… Riddle. Ah. Here it is. Two tickets to Rome on the flight departing at half-past two. Yes, we have you in seats 7A and 7B. It says you've not yet paid, however; shall you be paying cash?"

"Yes, thank you." Tom pulled out a folding leather object from his back pocket - a wallet, Bellatrix realised. She watched as he counted out several notes of British Muggle money, handed them over to the Muggle worker, and got some smaller notes in change.

"I can go ahead and take your luggage, Mr Riddle," said the Muggle man, and when Tom and Bellatrix handed over their suitcases, he wrote their names and flight information on some tags and put the tags on the handles of the suitcases. He put the bags behind them, handed over their tickets and said,

"You shall be at Gate 52. Enjoy your flight, Mr and Mrs Riddle."

"Thank you," said Tom politely, and Bellatrix just nodded. She wasn't really sure how to interact with Muggles. She just followed Tom away from the desk and over toward a set of stairs that were continuously moving upward. Bellatrix frowned. These weren't magic; this must be some mechanical trick the Muggles had dreamed up. But what was the purpose? Tom actually seemed just as perplexed as she was, and he admitted softly to her,

"We didn't have these in 1945. Or, if they existed, they were uncommon enough that I never encountered them. I'm not sure exactly what they are."

"Pardon me." A man who appeared to be rather in a hurry brushed by them and hopped onto the moving stairs, standing on the right and being transported up without walking. Bellatrix glanced at Tom, who nodded and made a move toward the mechanical stairs. He took Bellatrix's hand, and the two of them carefully stepped onto the next step. Bellatrix's heart thumped as they were guided upward, and she told Tom,

"I do not trust their technology. Everything they make fails catastrophically and kills people."

Tom actually chortled at that, shaking his head. At the top of the stairs, they climbed off, and he said in a gentle voice to Bellatrix,

"Eventually, we will reign over them, in our place, where we belong. But for right this moment, they will give us luxury hotels and nice restaurants, and we'll use their aeroplane to get to Rome. And it will be fine."

"I believe you, because you are my master and I have to believe you," Bellatrix whispered. Tom squeezed her hand and suggested,

"And what about me being your husband? Does that help your trust in me at all?"

"Of course it does," she answered, and he flashed her a rather happy little look. They walked through the terminal then, past restaurants that smelled of grease and bad meat, past shops that sold glossy magazines and newspapers and cheap-looking tourist souvenirs. At long last, they reached Gate 52, and they took their seats in the worn blue leather chairs that were all lined up and connected to one another.

"Everything is so gaudy," Bellatrix complained. "Such odd colours. Such strange materials. Everything is shiny and bright and obnoxious."

"Less so now than in 1945," Tom argued. When Bellatrix looked at him in confusion, he said, "The colour palette has shifted. Primary colours and bright purples and pinks used to be quite popular. They made things out of chrome and other shiny metals. Now everything is dull plastic. So much plastic. And the popular colours now are dull greens and brows. Plaid everywhere. It's less vibrant than it was when I left."

"How interesting," Bellatrix said, "that their world could change so much in so little time."

"Their fashions shift within a year or two," Tom shrugged. "The way you've done your hair? Straight and long like that with the part in the centre? Nobody wore their hair like that in 1945. None of the Muggle women would have left the house with their hair like that. They all had medium-length hair with carefully constructed waves and big curls. There was a war on, so they'd tie their hair up in kerchiefs. Your hair is fashionable now, in 1970. In 1975? Something else will be in vogue."

"They're so strange," Bellatrix mused. "So fickle. Ever-shifting. Why can't they just form a culture and keep it?"

Tom shrugged. "They call it _progress._"

"I call it _indecision_," Bellatrix snapped back. Then she shut up, because an ancient Muggle woman came to sit opposite them in the seats, and Tom smiled politely. He was so charming, Bellatrix thought. Even with the Muggles, he was so very charming. How did he manage it? The old woman gave them a toothy grin and asked in a squeaky sort of voice,

"Off for a romantic journey to Rome, are we?"

"Our honeymoon," Tom answered. Bellatrix tried to force a smile. The old woman grinned more broadly than ever and clasped her hands together.

"Honeymoon! Congratulations. When did you get married?"

"Just a few days ago," Tom replied. "What takes you to Rome?"

"I'm off to see my sister," said the woman. "She moved to Italy when we were young. She and I both served as nurses in the Great War, you see, and she fell in love with an Italian man and decided to stay."

"Fascinating," Tom nodded. "And she stayed there even through the Second World War?"

Bellatrix was confused. Why would it be a problem for a British Muggle to stay in Italy through the… oh. She remembered now, from History of Magic. During the Muggles' Second World War, the Italians had fought against the British. She stared at the woman, who looked sorrowful for a moment until she said,

"Those were difficult years. But it's all long, long behind us now, isn't it? Twenty-five years gone, that awful war. Long before your time, my boy! Memories fade. People move on."

"So they do." Tom flicked up the corners of his lips and seemed troubled. "Enjoy your trip to Italy, madam."

"And you enjoy your magnificent honeymoon!" the woman said back. Bellatrix realised she hadn't said anything, so she finally murmured,

"Thank you."

"_Attention Passengers of British Airways Flight 862 to Rome. We shall begin the boarding process momentarily. Kindly gather your belongings and tickets and form an orderly queue at Gate 52. Thank you._"

Bellatrix jumped at the electronically amplified voice, and Tom squeezed her hand. The Muggle woman eyed her, looking her up and down and seeming to judge her strange reaction. Bellatrix and Tom rose from their seats, and Bellatrix asked in an anxious voice,

"Have you got the tickets?"

"Yes, I've got them. Have you got your handbag with your book to entertain you?" Tom asked with a little smirk, and Bellatrix whimpered,

"Yes."

"It's going to be fine," Tom said, far more kindly. Bellatrix waited with him in the queue, and soon enough they'd opened a big thick door and had begun checking people's tickets and letting them into a strange tunnel. Bellatrix gripped Tom's hand as she studied the tunnel and realised it led to an aeroplane outside.

"We're getting onto _that?_" She gestured toward the aeroplane, her voice shrill.

"First time flying?" asked a man's voice from behind her. Bellatrix whirled around and glared, and a ginger-haired man gave her a gap-toothed smile as he said, "There ain't nothin' to it, love. Just a great whirr and a roar as your race up into the clouds, then you can't feel nuffink at all up there, then just an ickle bump when you land."

"Thank you; that's quite enough," Tom growled, but the man laughed and pointed at Bellatrix as he noted,

"She's white as a ghost, she is. Someone get this ickle lady a spot o' gin before we -"

Suddenly the man shut up. He vibrated where he stood, and Bellatrix flicked her eyes to Tom. He was staring, narrow-eyed, at the man, and she realised at once that he'd wandlessly Confounded the Muggle. Bellatrix couldn't have been more grateful.

"Sorry, madam," the ginger-haired man said. "Wasn't polite of me, now, was it?"

"That's all right. Just please leave me alone." Bellatrix turned back round, and when she glanced over to Tom, she could see that his cheeks had gone red. He held her hand tightly, and when they walked up to the blue-suited woman checking tickets, he handed theirs over. She stamped them and handed them back, and Tom led Bellatrix into the terrifying tunnel.

"It's going to be fine," he said again, and Bellatrix took a steadying breath as she stared at him and walked.

"I know." She brushed her thumb over his. "I know it'll be fine, because you're telling me it'll be fine. And I believe you. Master."

He quickly glanced around them, but no one was watching her use the honorific. He smiled a little at her and finally said,

"You need to call me _Tom_."

"I can't," Bellatrix whispered. As they neared the open door of the aeroplane, Tom insisted,

"I order you to do it. To call me _Tom_. It's an order from your master."

"And my husband?" Bellatrix teased, but he shook his head and said over the roar of the aircraft's engines,

"From Lord Voldemort."

* * *

It really was fine.

The acceleration before takeoff made Bellatrix want to scream, but Tom assured her it was just like flying on a very large, very mechanical broomstick. Up in the sky, Bellatrix could hardly tell they were moving. She managed to finally focus on the book she'd brought, _Letters Before Sunrise._ Beside her, Tom dozed off. She watched him sleep, tearing her attention away from her book and focusing on his face.

In his forties, he'd had blurry features. He'd had a broken-looking nose, a droopy eye, a snarling mouth, and loads of wrinkles. He'd been pale and waxy-skinned, looking slightly jaundiced. He'd seemed unwell, or damaged, as well as profoundly aged. But this iteration of Lord Voldemort - this Tom Riddle - was exceedingly handsome. His nose was long and slender. His lips were full and pouting. His eyelashes were curled and dark. His cheekbones were high and sharp. He had milky skin and thick, almost black waves of hair. His build was tall with lean muscle.

And when Bellatrix watched him sleep, she thought of the times she'd been in bed with him, the times he'd pushed his cock into her, the time he'd used his mouth on her. She thought of the time they'd been in the shower together and she'd touched him until his come had leaped in spurts onto the tile and had gone down the drain. She could still see his face, tipped back under the hot water, his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut. She squirmed where she sat in her aeroplane seat and reached for Tom's knee. She squeezed a little and forced herself to whisper the name he wanted her to use on this trip.

"Tom."

His eyes sprang open, and he turned his face toward her. He immediately covered her hand with his on his knee and examined her face. She must be pink-cheeked and panting by now, she thought, after all of that fantasising.

"What's the matter?" he whispered, and she leaned toward him as she murmured again,

"Tom."

"Mmm." He smiled at her and nodded. "Good girl."

"I woke you," she noted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he told her. "Say it again, so I know you'll do it when you need to."

"Tom," she nodded.

His eyes warmed, and he whispered to her,

"I hate that name."

She choked a laugh. "Then why are you making me use it?"

"Out of necessity," he shrugged. "But for some reason, it feels pleasant coming from you. I don't know why. I've no idea why."

She reached for his cheek and covered it with her hand, and she leaned so close to him that they could have kissed, right there on the aeroplane.

"Tom," she hummed, and he sucked in a breath as he declared,

"The sooner we get to our hotel, the better."

"What's going to happen in our hotel, Tom?" Bellatrix whispered, and he curled up half his mouth. He moved until his lips were right beside her ear, and he informed her,

"I was dreaming about it before you woke me up. I was dreaming about the way I'm going to hold you and touch you until you come and then pound you into the sheets. Bella…"

He'd slid his fingers into her hair by then, and she could feel a little tremble in them. When she glanced down to his trousers, she saw a slight bulge, and she realised he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She pulled back from him, her cheeks going quite warm, and was about to say something dirty back to him when the stewardess came walking up in the aisle. She had a pad of paper and a pencil in her gloved hands and was staring at Bellatrix and Tom with raised, judgmental eyebrows. She cleared her throat and said,

"Something to drink?"

**Author's Note: Sightseeing and lemons in Rome ahead — oh, my! But, naturally, nothing ever stays copacetic in my stories for too long, so don't get too comfortable. I really am very sorry for the terrible delays in uploading. I appreciate your understanding and compassion surrounding my recent difficulties with my mental health. I hope you're still reading and enjoying this story.**


	18. Crash

"Right," Bellatrix said as Tom picked up her suitcase and carried it away from the baggage claim with his own, "Now we've landed and got our bags, surely we can just Apparate to the hotel?"

"I think it best if we take a taxicab," Tom suggested. "The Muggles would see us Disapparate here; it's too crowded. Their Ministry would get alerted that someone had Disapparated in plain sight."

Bellatrix huffed, and Tom gave her a solemn look. He walked toward the doors and pushed one open with his hip, stepping out into the blinding sunshine outside. He walked on the sidewalk to the line of automobiles with little labeled signs atop them reading _TAXI._ Tom stepped up to the first one in the line, and the driver rushed out to greet them.

"_Buonasera__! Dove __stai_ _andando__?"_ the driver asked, and Bellatrix flicked her eyes to Tom, seeming to hope against hope that somehow her new husband understood enough Italian to get them by. He barely spoke a word, of course, so he used his exceedingly limited Italian skills to politely ask the Muggle driver if he spoke English. The driver clasped his hands together and exclaimed vociferously, "Ah! _Si!_ Of course, that why you so pale. English? American?"

"English," Tom said, flashing a hint of an awkward smile. He handed over the two suitcases, which the driver loaded into the boot of the car, and he said, "We're staying at the Hotel Abruzzi, in the Piazza della Rotonda. Just near the Pantheon."

"Ah, of course. _Perfezione__!_ We go at once, yes?" The driver opened the back door of the car, and Bellatrix slid in, with Tom following her. Soon enough, they were off, and for the first ten minutes of the drive, Tom and Bellatrix had to put up with incessant questioning from the driver, whose name was Luigi.

"What kind of flower you have at your wedding?" Luigi asked, and Bellatrix answered meekly,

"We had plum calla lilies."

"_Bene, bene. _So beautiful. You have fun dancing?"

"Loads of fun," Tom answered flatly. Luigi just kept on questioning.

"You live in London or some other city in England, or…?"

"We live in central London," Bellatrix affirmed. Luigi nodded and smiled in the rear-view mirror.

"I always want to visit London! Maybe someday I visit London."

"Maybe someday you will," Tom said in a conciliatory voice. Then, suddenly, the car jerked and swerved, and Luigi yelled,

"_Merda! Un cane!_"

Tom knew just enough Italian to decipher the exclamation. _Shit! A dog!_ Tom was abruptly shoved against the passenger door, and Bellatrix came sliding against him, and then everything went topsy-turvy. Tom realised at once that the car had flipped, or was in the process of flipping. They slammed into something - the road? The bank alongside the road? Tom couldn't tell. He heard and felt all the glass in the car shattering. He felt shards of it come hurtling at him, felt a big hunk of glass lodge in his shoulder through his suit jacket, and he growled in pain. The car seemed to flip again, and there was a loud groan as the metal twisted and crunched. The exhaust whined, and the engine sputtered, and the overwhelming smell of smoke filled Tom's nostrils. His head slammed hard against the frame of the car beside him, and then he was aware of Bellatrix in his lap. He grabbed onto her and held her as tightly as he could, grasping her curls and holding fast. He heard her screaming, her voice echoing alongside the strange sounds the car was making.

Eventually, the movement stopped, though Tom shut his eyes because he was so dizzy that he thought he'd be sick. Was he right side up or upside-down? He couldn't tell. He forced his eyes open and looked down at Bellatrix, shaking her roughly. She sat up slowly and held onto her elbow, and she had a badly bleeding cheekbone. She choked out a cry and demanded,

"What's happened?"

"We've crashed," Tom said simply. He looked into the front seat and saw Luigi, the driver, slumped over awkwardly. Tom reached forward and put his fingers to Luigi's neck and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He waited a long moment. Nothing. He looked at Bellatrix and shook his head. "He's dead."

Bellatrix's eyes went wide. Tom stared around the destroyed car. They had landed in a ditch on the side of the road, right side up but at an angle. The front of the car was crunched and smashed. All the windows and the windscreen had been blown out. Tom shook his head, his neck aching, and he said in disbelief,

"All over a stupid dog. The idiot swerved to avoid a stupid dog."

"Oh." Bellatrix touched at her cheek and then reached into her handbag, pulling out her wand. She aimed it at her face and muttered, "_Episkey__._"

They spent the next five minutes casting healing spells and charms over themselves. Once they'd cleaned up and removed the glass bits and fixed their wounds, Tom helped Bellatrix escape the car by blowing off one of the smashed doors. The doors wouldn't open the normal way, but magic granted the two of them their freedom. Tom forced open the boot of the car and took out their suitcases, and he said,

"_Now_ we Apparate to our hotel."

"We're just going to leave the driver dead on the side of the road?" Bellatrix asked, and Tom scoffed.

"The moron crashed his taxi by swerving to avoid a dog. Yes, we are going to leave him dead on the side of the road. Someone will find him. Let's go."

He took Bellatrix's hand, shut his eyes, and imagined the Hotel Abruzzi. When they came to, an elderly woman nearby gasped and jolted, but Tom calmly said,

"Oh, _scusami__._"

He and Bellatrix walked into the Abruzzi, which was a historic place adjacent to the Pantheon. The Muggle woman working the front desk had received Tom's international phone call making the reservation, but she barely spoke any English, so check-in was a little difficult.

"One bed is good?" she asked, and Tom frowned, glancing at Bellatrix.

"Yes, of course," he said. "One bed. Yes."

"Okay, yes," said the plump Muggle woman. "You on two floor."

Tom scowled. "I beg your pardon… erm. Two floor? I don't understand. _Non __capisco__. __Può_ _ripetere__?_"

The woman gestured toward the lift and pointed upward. "You on… two… floor."

Bellatrix put her hand on Tom's forearm and said quietly, "I think she means we're on the second floor."

"_Si! Si!_ Second floor." The woman seized Bellatrix's hand, which seemed to repulse Bellatrix enormously. Bellatrix dragged her hand and curled her lip up, but the Muggle woman didn't notice. She said again, "Second floor. Room Two-Eight. You have open… you have… _chiavi__._"

"Keys," Bellatrix nodded, and the woman laughed uproariously. Tom took the keys and gave a polite nod and smile as he and Bellatrix made their way to the lift. Inside the lift, Bellatrix pressed the _2_ button, and as they rode up, Tom said,

"I shall have to learn a bit of Italian for our stay. It's unreasonable to expect everyone to speak English."

"Right." Bellatrix followed him out of the lift, but as he was putting the key into the lock of their door, he heard her breath shaking beside him, and when he turned to face her, he saw tears silently streaming down her cheeks. He pushed open the door to their room and walked inside, and as Bellatrix followed him in, he shut the door and asked,

"What's the matter?"

"It should not upset me," she said firmly. She looked round the room, with its beamed ceiling, its bright white walls, and its vibrant red decorations. She set down her suitcase and reminded Tom, "I tortured and killed a Muggle to impress you when you first came to this time. I have killed many Muggles on my own."

"You're upset about that taxi driver?" Tom pressed, and Bellatrix wrenched her eyes shut.

"Not so much about him. Frankly, I don't much care whether he lives or dies. But I keep thinking over what it felt like. The sudden jolt. Flying through the air… my head slamming against the roof. Rocketing back down and clamoring to your lap. Glass slamming into my face. The sound of bending metal groaning. The smell of the smoke. It's just… it's rather a lot to suddenly move on from. It's only just happened."

Tom nodded and set down his suitcase. "Yes, of course."

He moved over to her and threaded his arms round her shoulders. He pulled her against his body and whispered into her ear,

"You are so ferocious and vicious and fearless that sometimes I forget you're also human. We both are."

He shut his eyes and remembered all the same things as her - the sights, smells, and sounds of the crash. He was socked with the feel of it, of rolling and tumbling off the road and landing in a ditch. The driver had died, he thought. They could have died. They had been very lucky to escape with their lives. Things might have worked out very differently for them if just one variable had been off.

"Tom," Bellatrix hummed, and he pulled back to look down at her, savouring for some reason the sound of his name from her lips. She stared up at him and shook her head in desperation. "I need to be distracted just now."

"Distracted." He tucked her hair behind her ear and curled up half his mouth with a smile he knew did not reach his eyes. "How shall I distract you?"

"Tom." Bellatrix put her hand between them and pawed a little at his crotch. He sucked in a breath and shifted where he stood. He wasn't hard. He wasn't even sure if he could get hard right now. All he could think about was the crash; it was spinning through his mind like the car had spun through the air. He stared down at Bellatrix and tried to focus on her. He raised his hand to her breast and squeezed a little, dragging his thumb over her soft nipple and bending to kiss her lips a bit. But it was no use. He was utterly soft, and that wasn't going to be fixed any time soon. He huffed an angry breath and whispered,

"Bella, I can't right now."

"Are you cross with me?" she asked, sounding worried, but he shook his head and insisted,

"No. I… I love you. Do you know the fear I felt in that car? I must have nearly ripped your hair out, the way I was holding onto you. My mind is… let's go get some dinner. Perhaps later we shall both be in a better frame of mind for this sort of thing."

They went to a trattoria just down the street in the Piazza, and they got a table outside overlooking the Pantheon. Bellatrix ordered linguine with clams, and Tom ordered his with salmon. They shared a bottle of good white wine, and as the sun started to go down, they just people-watched. Bellatrix sipped her wine and ogled the hordes of Muggle tourists headed into the Pantheon. Tom stared at Bellatrix, marveling at how beautiful she was.

What if she hadn't survived the accident, he wondered suddenly? What would he have done? She had no protection. He had two Horcruxes. Bellatrix had nothing. She was entirely mortal. The slightest thing could kill her and rip her away from him. Could he stomach that? Could he live with the idea of Bellatrix being permanently torn from his life?

"_Signore?_ Tom Riddle?"

Tom looked up to see a Muggle man in a black suit standing at their table. It was the concierge from the Hotel Abruzzi who had referred them to this restaurant. Tom nodded up at the man, who held out a card with the hotel's embossed logo on it. The man said,

"We have had a telephone call, _Signore_. From England. I was told it was urgent to get you this message."

"_Grazie._" Tom took the card and stared at it for a moment, and the man in the suit walked away. As Tom read the message a second and third time, he felt dizzy, like he'd fall out of his chair.

"What's the message?" Bellatrix asked, her voice anxious. Tom gulped and finally read aloud in a trembling voice,

"_Tom, I have returned to my life. Now you must go back to yours. Come to England and I will show you the way. Trust in me - trust in yourself. - Lord Voldemort."_

**Author's Note: GASP. So, is this somebody's idea of a trick to get Tom back to England, or has the elder Lord Voldemort ****really ****returned? And if he ****has,** **why is he trying to send Tom back to 1945? What will happen to Bellatrix? Sorry for the cliffhanger! LOL. I am ****starting to feel** **significantly ****better (yay, meds!) and would like to ****very sincerely ****thank you for the well wishes and the kind words. Thanks so much for reading and for reviewing.**


	19. Leaping Clock

"Tom," Bellatrix murmured as she faced him in their hotel bed, "You aren't seriously considering going to England?"

"No. Maybe. I'm not sure." Tom huffed a breath and tucked Bellatrix's hair behind her ear. "All I know, Bella, is that I'm not meant to be here."

"In Rome?" Bellatrix asked with confusion, but he clarified,

"In 1970. I got here by accident, through a twist of fate. And my older self had vanished, but he's come back now. Am I meant to tell myself to just go away so I can live in a time that is not my own?"

"But what about me?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes welling heavily. She covered his hand with hers. "What about us?"

"I'll take you with me," Tom insisted. "I'll take you back to 1945, and we can live happily there as a married couple, and we'll…"

He trailed off then, and Bellatrix knew why. It was impossible, the idea that he could take her back in time with him. If he were going to go back to his own time, he was going to have to go without her. If things were going to be put back to rights, with a 43-year-old Lord Voldemort in 1970 and an eighteen-year-old Tom Riddle in 1945, then Bellatrix would have to stay where she was, and she would have to be without her husband. Suddenly she began to cry, tears worming their way down her cheeks as she grasped his shoulder.

"No, please don't leave me," she begged him, and he shushed her and whispered,

"I'm not going anywhere. We are not going back to England. Hush now, Bella. Let's make love."

"What, now?" Bellatrix said in surprise, raising her swollen eyes to him. He nodded.

"Yes, now."

"Erm… all right." Bellatrix started to pull up on the hem of her nightgown and moved closer to Tom. He snarled his fingers into her hair and mumbled,

"You know I love you."

"Tom," she hummed against his lips, but then they were interrupted by the sound of knocking on their hotel room door. Bellatrix jolted, and Tom sat up straight and snatched at his wand on the table beside the bed. He turned on the Muggle lamp and dashed out of the bed, shirtless and wearing only cotton pyjama trousers. Bellatrix grabbed her wand and followed him in her white nightgown. The two of them stood before the door, wands clasped carefully in their hands, and Tom slowly opened the door. When he did, Bellatrix gasped. Before them stood a tall man with close-cropped dark, greying hair. She recognised him at once, though he was missing the warped and broken features that had made him odd and ugly when she'd seen him last.

"Who are you?" Tom demanded, and the wizard before them smirked.

"Master." Bellatrix bowed her head and felt shock wash over her.

"May I come in?" asked Lord Voldemort. "I do apologise for the late hour. I knew you would not come to England, but I wanted to give you a fair shake at it in case something had changed."

"How did you know I would not come to England?" Tom narrowed his eyes at the older version of himself, who pushed the door open a bit further and stepped into the room.

"Because you and I are, quite literally, exactly the same, Tom, and I would not have come to England if I had received such a cryptic message whilst on honeymoon in Rome. I _did not_ come to England, actually. By the way, you did _everything_ the same as last time."

"Shut the door." Tom glared at the older iteration of himself, who wandlessly closed the door and walked a bit further into the hotel room. Voldemort sat in the leather chair beside the window and calmly Conjured two smaller chairs for Tom and Bellatrix. His skill was incredible, Bellatrix thought. He was so terrifyingly powerful. She sank into one of the wooden chairs he'd Conjured, but Tom stood and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Voldemort stared up at his younger self and noted,

"How handsome I was. I had forgotten, nearly."

"Did you time travel, in the life you lived?" Tom cut right to the chase, and Lord Voldemort nodded slowly.

"What was once sideways becomes linear," he said. "I was eighteen years old when I dropped a clock pendant in Borgin and Burkes. I touched the pieces and was yanked forward to 1970. My older self reappeared and convinced me to go back, which I did, and then I traveled the Continent and gained immense skill. I made no more of those little life-saving devices, of which you've already got two. I decided two was enough."

Bellatrix stared at Tom. Life-saving devices? What did he mean? But Tom just nodded.

"So you are, truly, me from the future," he suggested. "Where did you go when you vanished from this timeline?"

"I moved sideways, I think," Voldemort said, "and so did you. Time travel is not always straight lines, Tom. I've come to realise this. But the reality is that you and I are both now in the same space at the same time, and that can not hold. You must go back to 1945 and live out your life."

"Well, I'm taking my wife with me," Tom said firmly, reaching for Bellatrix's hand. She squeezed his fingers, and when Bellatrix glanced at Voldemort, his dark eyes welled strangely. He nodded and gave a strange laugh.

"When I was young, I wanted to take her with me," he said, "but I was told that I could not, and so I didn't, and I understand now why. The tasks I completed on my own, the learning I did on the Continent, had to be all alone. Bella stays here."

"No. Please." Bellatrix shook her head and squeezed Tom's hand more tightly. "I love him."

Voldemort actually brushed a knuckle under his eye and flashed Bellatrix a little smile. His eyes were sad as he said,

"Have you any idea how terrible it's been waiting for you?"

"Waiting for me?" Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort nodded.

"I went back to 1945 without you, madly in love with you, and I went to the Continent. And Cygnus and Druella Black got married, and they had this baby with curly black hair, and everyone oohed and ahhed over little Bellatrix. I sent a card and a gift from Bulgaria."

"Oh." Bellatrix felt fresh tears spring to her eyes. She studied Voldemort's face, so much more handsome than she remembered, and she listened as he continued,

"When I came back and really started my movement in full, little Bellatrix Black was this hellion of a child running round wreaking havoc everywhere she went. And all I could think was that she was going to grow up to be my wife, so I stayed so very far away. When she was a teenager, she was drawn to me, and she begged me to join my movement, so I made her a Death Eater. And by the time she was sixteen, it took every ounce of self-control I had not to kiss her against the wall of my office."

"Master." Bellatrix stared into his eyes and saw Tom there. She looked up at young Tom, at the boy she'd married, and saw that his face was twisted with emotion. He shook his head and demanded,

"You mean to make me wait twenty-five years for her?"

"I mean to have you go back alone, because that's what I did, and you must do as I did. It is a loop. A circle. Otherwise it splinters." Voldemort reached into his Muggle suit jacket and pulled out a chain with a clock on the end of it. He stared at Tom and asked, "Look familiar?"

"The pendant from Borgin and Burkes," Tom breathed, and Voldemort shrugged.

"Not the same one, but quite similar. They're called Leaping Clocks. I got this one, a seventeenth-century Irish Leaping Clock, as a gift, and I have been saving it for you. It only carries one passenger."

"No. Tom, no." Bellatrix clutched at his hand and flew to her feet. She threw her arms round his neck and kissed his cheek, going up on her toes. "No. Don't leave me. Don't go."

"Bella." Tom pulled back a little and shook his head. He cupped her jaws in his hands as his eyes grew wet and his full bottom lip shook a little. "My 43-year-old self and I can not be in the same place at the same time. Awful things happen to people who muck with time like that. I have to go back to make my future possible. Our future."

"Our future?" Bellatrix nearly shrieked. "What future? I am your wife! We've just been married! Now you're leaving me! What sort of future are you talking about?"

"The sort where a man waits twenty-five years for the witch he adores," said Lord Voldemort from behind them. Bellatrix turned over her shoulder and stared at him, at the older man with Tom's eyes and Tom's lips and Tom's cheekbones.

"Do you love her?" Tom asked the older version of himself. Lord Voldemort shut his eyes and sighed. He nodded and said in a quiet voice,

"Yes. I do. I'm certain."

"Bella." Tom turned her face back toward him, and a tear worked its way from his eye. Bellatrix was sobbing now, shaking as she realised he meant to leave her. She shook her head, but Tom kissed her as hard as he could and swallowed up her whimpering. She let him push his tongue between her lips, let him suckle on her bottom lip and nibble there a little, let him wrap his arms around her and pull her close. He kissed and kissed her until at last he yanked his mouth away and whispered, "I have to go."

"No." Bellatrix clutched at his face. "Master. Master, please."

"You'll stay with me here." Tom's eyes boiled over, and another tear streamed down his perfect cheek. He shook his head, and his mouth trembled ferociously as he tried to form some more words. Finally he said, "I shall see you in twenty-five years, and then I will still love you."

"No!" Bellatrix squeezed his face and then his shoulders. "No! Don't go! Don't leave me!"

Suddenly she felt a hand upon her shoulder, and she whirled around and stared up at Lord Voldemort, who looked fraught with emotion as he glanced at the younger version of himself and said,

"It was not easy to leave her."

"Then don't leave me!" Bellatrix was shrieking now, pressing her palms to Tom's bare chest. Voldemort calmly said to his younger iteration,

"Dress in wizarding robes from your suitcase and pack up your belongings."

"No! Master!" Bellatrix let out an awful cry as Tom pulled away and went over to where his suitcase was. The hand on her shoulder tightened, and for some reason she wanted to whirl and punch Lord Voldemort in the face. But he was Tom, she realised. She was him, just older. That was so strange, and she couldn't calibrate it. This was even more bizarre than the car crash they'd survived. Why had they survived that car crash?

"She is unprotected," said Tom as he began to dress in robes, and Lord Voldemort apparently understood exactly what Tom meant.

"I have spent years figuring a way to rectify that," Voldemort said. "I will keep her safe."

"Will you help her make one?" Tom asked, and Bellatrix squealed desperately,

"One _what?"_

"I will keep her safe," Voldemort said quite confidently. "On that note… there will be a time, when she is ten years old, that she will fall into a frozen pond at Castle Rosier visiting her grandparents. You will save her life. The ninth of December, 1961. Be certain you are present at dinner that evening."

"That happened! I fell into the pond and Lord… you… you saved me!" Bellatrix gasped, staring at the elder Lord Voldemort. He nodded at Tom, who was doing up his robe. Bellatrix dashed over to Tom and cried again, "Please don't leave me. We are married. We are _married, _Tom."

"I want you to follow my orders now," Tom said quite firmly, taking hold of Bellatrix's shoulders. He stared behind her at the older version of himself and then back at Bellatrix, and he said, "Bella. You and I were married when I was a time-traveling eighteen-year-old boy. I want you to be the wife of the Dark Lord now. The wife of the powerful and older Lord Voldemort. He is me. We are the same man, just with the space of time between us. I will still love you powerfully twenty-five years in my future. Will you still love me?"

"I will _always_ love you, Master!" Bellatrix promised. She glanced over her shoulder to Lord Voldemort, who had sucked in a breath and was standing with his hands crossed in front of him. Then Bellatrix noticed something. He had a wedding band on. He had a platinum ring on the fourth finger of his left hand. Her mouth fell open, and she raised her eyes to his. Voldemort glanced down at his hand and flexed his fingers a few times. He shrugged and chewed his lip the way Tom always did. He said,

"I never took it off. I have considered myself a married man for twenty-five years."

"Oh." Bellatrix flicked her eyes between Lord Voldemort and Tom Riddle. She had married the boy. Now she would need to be the wife of the grown man. She shook her head as Tom shut his suitcase and moved back toward his older self. Lord Voldemort held out the Leaping Clock pendant and said to Tom,

"Drop it and touch the shards when you are ready to go back where you belong."

"Tom. Please." Bellatrix held the sleeve of his robe, but Tom stared at her with sorrow in his eyes and reminded her,

"I'm not meant to be here."

"You were meant to come forward," Lord Voldemort said reassuringly, "but now you are meant to go back. Otherwise it splinters. If I am to become the Dark Lord ascending through power and glory, you must go back, Tom, and live the life I lived. Learn the things I learnt. This time gave you Bellatrix, and that is more than enough. It is time to go home."

"Master, please." Bellatrix clasped her hands together as she begged, her face tear-streaked and swollen. But Voldemort just nodded at the clock pendant and told Tom,

"Drop it on the ground and touch the shards. Go back now."

"I love you." Tom looked at Bellatrix, seeming to study her up and down. "I'm certain. I'm quite certain. I do love you. I still will, in twenty-five years. Dinner on the ninth of December, 1961. I'll pull you from a frozen pond."

"Don't leave me," Bellatrix pleaded, but Tom held his wand in one hand and the Leaping Clock in the other and leaned in to carefully kiss her. She whimpered onto his lips as he pulled away, and then she watched him drop the clock. It shattered, glass and metal and all, into a thousand pieces on the ground. Bellatrix backed up, and Tom gave her one last long, heavy look. He crouched down, and she wanted to scream at him again not to leave. But she was frozen, rooted to the ground and muted by her horror. She watched as he pawed through the broken glass and metal.

And then he disappeared.

He was gone in a flash, vanished into thin air as if he'd Disapparated from the spot. The broken metal and glass went with him, leaving not a single trace of him behind. Bellatrix stared at the place where he'd been, and she collapsed. Her knees gave out, and she fell to the ground, desperately clawing at the floor as if she could make Tom come back.

"Bellatrix." Lord Voldemort's voice sounded so much like Tom's had, Bellatrix thought. She felt him pulling her up by her elbow, felt him drawing her against his body. She let him cradle her as she sobbed like an infant. He rolled his arm around her and said quietly down to her, "It's me. It's the very same man who married you. I remember leaving you. I remember the sick feeling of landing in Borgin and Burkes without you. I remember the entire next year, barely able to move or speak because all I could think about was you. I remember the day I learnt you'd been born, the way my stomach felt that day. I remember pulling you out of that frozen pond and just hoping you'd be all right, because you had always been meant to grow up and become mine. And I remember the day I put your Mark upon you, the way you looked at me."

"Where did you go?" Bellatrix asked. "When you vanished, where did you go?"

"1981," Voldemort said, "but I can't speak of it, not any more than Tom Riddle can speak of 1970 when he goes back to 1945. It's all become a loop, a cycle. And if a piece falls loose, Bella, it will splinter. So I had to go back. I had to leave you, because I already left you the first time round."

Bellatrix stepped back and stared at his hand again. She studied the platinum wedding band she'd just put on Tom's finger a few days earlier, and she mused,

"Somewhere, there's a timeline where Tom and I didn't survive that car crash."

"Probably," Voldemort agreed. "Or one where the driver hit the dog and didn't crash the car at all."

"You are the same man," Bellatrix said. She raised her eyes to his and saw so much of Tom in him. The chiseled cheekbones, the narrow nose, the full lips. "You look different from how I remember you."

"Things move sideways and merge," Voldemort informed her. "It is possible that you knew a different me. Timelines shift and warp and line up. There is convergence."

"I don't understand," Bellatrix confessed. "All I know is that the man standing before me is _one_ older version of the husband who just got rocketed back in time away from me."

"Have you any notion of how proud I am of you?" Voldemort asked abruptly, and Bellatrix shook her head, confused. He turned up half his mouth and said, "I got to watch you crash those two cars into one another. I got to watch you burn down the Muggle cottage and torture and kill captured Muggles. I got to put the Dark Mark on you myself. I got to watch you become a warrior, Bellatrix. And it has been magnificent."

"Master." Bellatrix bowed her head and tried not to think of the fact that she would never see young Tom Riddle again. She would never see her handsome young husband ever again. Her eyes welled once more, and she choked out a tortured sound.

"I have spent the last twenty-five years waiting for this exact moment," Lord Voldemort informed her. Bellatrix raised her eyes, and Voldemort clarified, "I have spent the last twenty-five years waiting for my younger self to come forward, fall in love with you, marry you, be forced to go back without you, and leave you standing in a room alone with the older version of myself."

"What comes next?" Bellatrix asked, voice shaking with anxiety. She looked round the hotel room and suddenly felt awkward. Was she with Tom, or with someone else? It was impossible to really say. This was her lord and master. She knew that much. She stared at him, and he said,

"I knew that my older self would come here and convince me to go back. I knew that I would leave you with my older self. But even having traveled to 1981, I've never had any idea what exactly comes next. What happens now, with you and I standing here and twenty-five years between us? Do I go back to England alone? Do you convince me to take off this wedding ring? Do you agree to live as my wife? What exactly happens, Bellatrix?"

"I don't know, Master," she whispered. He took a step nearer to her and carefully cupped her jaw in his hand, just the way Tom had done. He shut his eyes and breathed in slowly, and he murmured,

"Perhaps… we might begin… with something I have very desperately wanted for twenty-five years, Bellatrix. Perhaps just one kiss."

Bellatrix felt so confused then that she could have screamed, and she balled her fists at her sides as she took a shaking breath. She finally said,

"Yes, all right."

Lord Voldemort bent to meet her, and his lips brushed against hers in the exact way Tom's had done many times before. He licked and sucked at her lip, just like Tom had done, and then he pressed his lips to hers again. He pulled away a bit and sighed, and he whispered onto her mouth,

"Oh, but I have missed you."

Then he kissed her again.

**Author's Note: If your head is hurting a little after that, I don't blame you. So poor Bellatrix and Tom got separated —for twenty-five years! And this Lord Voldemort a****)** **only has two ****Horcruxes** **and therefore isn't physically destroyed, b) has seen 1981, the year Harry Potter destroyed him, c) presumably is armed and ready for real leadership, d) is still in love with Bellatrix after twenty-five years without her. Will she be able to adjust to life with grown-up Tom who remembers their romance but also spent time alone on the Continent, etc? How will the Ministry and Dumbledore react? So much to unpack, so buckle your seatbelts!**


	20. Same

"This is all so strange." Bellatrix sat on the wooden chair Voldemort had Conjured and stared at him. After a few kisses, they'd broken away and sat down. Now he put his hands on the arms of the leather chair and cleared his throat.

"Perhaps it will help if we think of shared memories," he suggested, "so you might realise that it has been me all this time. Do you remember when you were sixteen, and you danced with me at your cousin Briony's wedding?"

"Yes." Bellatrix smiled just a little, weakly, and recalled, "I was so terrified to take my turn with you. I was in awe of you, but so terrified."

Voldemort curled up half his mouth. "It reminded me of our wedding. It made me think of dancing with you when your skirts were so full I could hardly move round them, when you had a veil of finest lace. You carried plum calla lilies that day."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go heavy with tears. She stared at Voldemort's left hand, at his platinum ring, and she wondered how many witches he'd had in the twenty-five years between them. He reached to twist his ring around his finger, and he murmured,

"I know what you're thinking. Was I on my own all that while, or was I with others? It's complicated." He sighed. He met Bellatrix's eyes, and in his gaze, she saw Tom. She saw his glittering black eyes and his full lips and his narrow nose right there on his face. He told her, "You must remember, Bellatrix, that when I came home from the Continent, you were a child. My wife was a child. And so, yes, I took other witches to distract myself. But it never worked. I would physically be with one witch, and my mind would be solely with you. My attentions, my desires, were entirely with you. The you I remembered."

"What did you do when I began to grow up?" Bellatrix wondered. "When I was sixteen and wanted nothing more than to serve you? How did you… you never gave me any special attention."

"It took all the effort in the world to keep you at a distance," Voldemort said, "knowing that my younger self was coming, that I'd go away and leave you to fall in love with Tom Riddle. You had to fall in love with young Tom Riddle because that was what had happened. But it was so difficult, Bellatrix. Ignoring you at meetings. Giving you only the slightest praise for your bravery and viciousness. There was one time…"

He shut his eyes and gripped the arms of the chair, and Bellatrix frowned. Then her lips fell open, and she said quietly,

"Dinner at my parents' house last year."

Voldemort nodded. She remembered now. She remembered the way she and Lord Voldemort had wound up standing in her parents' corridor together, facing one another. He'd stared down at her and she'd bowed her head respectfully. He'd seemed like there was something he'd wanted to say. She'd noticed then that his hands had been shaking - that left hand with the mystery ring, for as far as Bellatrix had known, he had no wife. Lord Voldemort had finally turned and walked briskly into the dining room saying nothing at all, leaving Bellatrix a little confused in the corridor.

"I wanted to kiss you," Voldemort told her now. She raised her eyes to him, and he said softly, "I wanted to pull you close and kiss you. It felt like I finally could. It felt like I needed to. It felt like the only thing to do, and yet it would ruin everything. So I left you alone."

"I will never see him again, will I?" Bellatrix asked, her voice cracking. Young Tom Riddle, she meant. Lord Voldemort shook his head and insisted,

"Young Tom's time and yours will never align again. But I am he, Bella. It's me. It's me; I am the same wizard who rolled over and over in that car crash with you. I am the wizard who made you a cucumber Collins in my kitchen and kissed you with clumsy, unpractised lips. I am the wizard who used my mouth on you whilst you hovered above me - oh, yes. I remember that."

Bellatrix's cheeks went hot, and she shut her eyes. She listened as Voldemort mused,

"It has been so long for me."

"It's quite a change," Bellatrix declared, "and I have just begun mourning the boy who was just ripped away from me."

"You woke me on the aeroplane to say my name to me," Voldemort reminded her. She opened her eyes and dragged her teeth over her lip.

"You remember that."

"Of course I remember that," Voldemort smirked. "Opening my eyes and hearing you say that syllable. Have you any notion how many times I replayed that moment in my mind through twenty-five years?"

Bellatrix just blinked. She stared at him, and he tented his fingertips together and licked his lip.

"Say it now. Call me by my name, Bellatrix."

"You are my master," she said. "Your name is not to be spoken."

His dark eyes softened a little, and he tipped his head. "No one else may ever call me that name again, but for you it is a sign of continuity, isn't it? I am the same man who touched the shards on the ground and vanished back into 1945. I am the same man who married you. It's me. So say my name."

Bellatrix rose from her chair and walked over to him, standing between his legs and staring down into his eyes.

"Tom," she said, as firmly as she could. She tried to say it with confidence. He smiled, looking relieved, and he nodded.

"Again."

"Tom." She threaded her fingers into his short-cropped waves of dark hair, tinged with grey. She tipped his head back and bent to kiss him, pressing her lips against his mouth. She pulled at his lips with hers, suckling his bottom lip and licking. He'd taught her how to do that. He grunted a little, and she hummed against his mouth, "Tom. Tom, Tom."

"It's me." He started to slowly stand, and he laced his arms around Bellatrix. He put one hand at the small of her back, and his left arm encircled her shoulders. He kissed her again, and it felt so remarkably familiar. It felt delicious, the way his tongue crept between her lips and hooked against the roof of her mouth. When he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, Bellatrix flushed between her legs, and she suddenly wanted this man. She wanted this older Tom, this master she hardly knew, her husband who was twenty-five years removed from her. She kissed him back and pressed herself against him, touching at his chest the same way she'd always done to young Tom. Suddenly she felt like she was cheating on her Tom, like she was betraying her husband. But this was _him_, she reminded herself. She wasn't cheating on him; she was with him.

"I love you," she said impulsively. She pulled her mouth away and stared at Lord Voldemort's face. He looked genuinely surprised, and he held Bellatrix's shoulders in his hands as if to steady them both. He blinked down at her, and she nodded and said again, "If you are him, then it's true, because I love him. If you are my Tom, then I love you. Master."

His eyes went wet at once, and he whispered,

"Are you certain?"

She grinned. It was the same thing he'd demanded of her the first time she'd ever told him that she loved him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stood closer to him.

"Yes, Master. I'm certain."

He was pushing her then, and she was backing toward the bed. It felt right, the way they were moving. It felt natural for him to start pulling at the hem of her nightgown. He tossed it aside as they reached the bed. His hands felt right on her as he searched her bare breasts, caressing and squeezing them. She thought he'd undress, too, but he surprised her by pushing her back up to the pillows and yanking down on her knickers as he informed her,

"I need to taste you again. It's been so long. It's been _so long_."

"Taste me?" Bellatrix gasped then, for he knelt between her legs, shoving them farther apart and delving down at once. Bellatrix cried out in shock at the feel of his tongue making contact with her womanhood. She grabbed at the red cotton blankets and threw her head back against the pillows as Voldemort's hands rubbed her thighs. One hand trailed up her thigh and over her flat stomach until he reached a breast. He tweaked at her nipple and massaged the soft tissue. Bellatrix squealed at the feel of that, and then writhed as she felt long, flat strokes by Voldemort's tongue repeating over and over again. Up, up, up he stroked. Long and flat, suckling on her clit at the end of each stroke. He used his free hand to squeeze at her backside and her thigh. He kept playing with her breast. And all the while he licked, long and flat, and sucked her clit.

"_Tom!_" Bellatrix hissed his name in a desperate whisper and then drove her head against the pillow, groaning and squeezing the blankets. She twisted and bucked a little, wrenching her eyes shut against the feel of him increasing the intensity of his mouth's movements. His tongue poked inside of her, and his free hand started to flick at her clit and then draw firm circles. He was suckling the lips of her womanhood, then lathing his tongue over her hypersensitive clit. Bellatrix cried out and fisted the blankets so roughly she thought she'd tear them. His left hand massaged her breast, his thumb dragging over her peaked nipple. Bellatrix moaned like a harlot and felt everything going tight, coiling in her belly.

"Oh, help," she whispered. Suddenly Voldemort moaned and sighed against her body, his breath huffing on her inner thigh as he took both hands and gripped her hips. He growled and sucked hard on Bellatrix's clit, and she realised what was happening. He'd been grinding against the blankets; she'd seen him pumping his hips against the bed. Now he'd finished, she thought. He'd come in his trousers.

"Ohhh…" The thought of his come spilling inside his clothes pushed her right over the edge, and she grabbed onto his head. He burrowed himself deeply against her, his nose rubbing her clit as his tongue lapped at her soaked folds. Bellatrix lost herself then, snapping like a wire. She arched up her back, convulsing a little as her walls snapped and her ears rang and her veins went hot. Everything felt so, so good, and she gasped and moaned through the overwhelming rush of pleasure. She collapsed backward against the pillow and panted for breath as her orgasm faded. Eventually, Voldemort sat up on his haunches, and she heard him muttering Scouring and Siphoning spells to clean up his trousers and his face. Bellatrix shut her eyes and tried desperately to remind herself that the young, handsome husband who had been ripped away from her was the very same man who had just given them both satisfaction.

It was the same man, she thought. He was the same man.

But as he lay beside her on his back and breathed slowly, something felt a little different. He felt harder. He felt sharper. He felt… _older._ She turned her face and stared at his profile, thinking that his delicate nose had hardened up a little with age. His lips had thinned just a little in twenty-five years. His skin had some fine lines and wrinkles. His hair was cut shorter now, and his hairline was receding. The black tresses had threads of grey running through. And there was something more difficult to pin down, something more intangible. There was a certain wisdom he carried about him, as though he had seen much and learnt even more. There was a certain authority he held even lying here in bed. Young Tom had been unsure, cautious, unpractised. This Lord Voldemort was confident, brazen, and accomplished. It was the same man, but twenty-five years had changed him.

"You, on the other hand, are precisely as I remember you." Voldemort flicked his eyes to Bellatrix, who raised her brows and parted her lips. Voldemort chewed his lip the same way Tom had always done, and he said, "I apologise. You never liked when I snuck into your thoughts. I shall leave your mind to you."

"You're still kind," Bellatrix noted, and Voldemort snorted a laugh. He touched the back of his wrist to his forehead and said,

"I'm not sure the victims I just left behind in 1981 would agree. Nor, likely, would any of the Muggles I've ordered killed here in 1970. I have very rarely been accused of being _kind_."

"You're kind to me, Master," Bellatrix argued, and Voldemort reached for her fingers as he whispered,

"It's a little bit different with you. I've waited twenty-five years for you."

Bellatrix brushed her thumb over his, thinking that his hands had grown rough and worn over the years. She closed her eyes and remembered dancing with her master when she'd been sixteen.

"So you knew me at Briony's wedding?" she asked. "When we danced, you asked me about school. You asked me about going back to school two weeks later; you asked me what my favourite subject was. You knew me then?"

"Yes. I was trying so hard to remind myself that you were still a student, that it wasn't time yet. I just kept telling myself that if I was patient, the time would come for you to fall in love with young Tom Riddle, for him to go back to 1945 and to leave you with the older me. But even with that knowledge, I had no idea what would happen once young Tom went back in time. Would you scorn me? Would you scream and cry about your young husband leaving? I didn't know… I had no idea if…" Voldemort trailed off, and Bellatrix smirked a little.

"You didn't know if it would end with me naked in bed next to you?"

He grinned and waved his arm through the air, wandlessly and nonverbally Conjuring a plush white blanket. Bellatrix marveled at his nearly unbelievable magical skill. As the warm white blanket settled over her, she mused,

"You're so powerful."

"I had to spend those years on the Continent," he explained. "I had much to learn."

"And what did _they_ teach you? Those other witches? Did they teach you things?" Bellatrix felt like a fool all of a sudden, like an inexperienced idiot in comparison to him. He gave her a warm look and shook his head.

"It was never anything more than simple rutting," he said bluntly, "and I always left wanting you. Why do you think I left your cousin Briony's wedding early?"

Bellatrix laughed and shook her head. "I was only sixteen."

"Precisely," he nodded. "You were sixteen. Very, very nearly seventeen; it was a month before your birthday. And I danced with you; I put my hands on your body. And I _knew_… I knew that if I did anything to muck it up, I'd splinter everything. You had to fall in love with young Tom Riddle when he came forward in time. Not with the older me. But I saw you dance with that idiot Rodolphus Lestrange, and I was so overwhelmed with jealousy, and I -"

"I'd forgotten that Dolph and I danced at Briony's wedding," Bellatrix mused. "He was probably plotting marriage even then."

Voldemort shut his eyes. "Plum."

Bellatrix frowned, confused. Voldemort turned his face and opened his eyes, and he said,

"You wore a… a plum-coloured gown. With a black sash round the waist. It was the same colour as the calla lilies you carried at our wedding. All night I thought of those lilies. Of marrying you. So I left, because it was… it was too much. So."

"Master?" Bellatrix squeezed at his fingers, and when he closed his eyes and didn't answer her, she tried, "Tom?"

His eyes opened again, and she said,

"Earlier this summer, you had me torture and kill two captured Muggles. You watched both times. You seemed to enjoy it. _Good girl_, you told me. Both times. Did it remind you… did it make you think of…"

"Of the first time? With Harriet Sugarman? Yes. Of course it did." Voldemort sat up slowly and stared down at Bellatrix. He tucked her hair behind her ear and murmured, "Watching you become my warrior was the most satisfying… mmph. Bella."

Suddenly Bellatrix felt her eyes well heavily with tears. She thought of dancing with young Tom Riddle at their wedding, of drinking wine with him in his flat. She thought of standing with him in the shower, burrowing her fingers in his thick black hair. She thought of his playful smirk, his youthful laughter. She thought of his soft hands nestled in her curls, of his whisper in her ear. She thought of the sight of him sleeping on the aeroplane, the way she'd woken him up by calling him _Tom_. And then she began to cry, because the man she was staring up at was not the same. He had grown harder. He had grown older. He was still hers, and she was his, but he was not the young Tom Riddle she had married, and he was not the young Tom Riddle who had vanished from her earlier tonight. This man had spent twenty-five years of his life without her. He had lived decades without Bellatrix. So she cried, pulling up the blanket he'd Conjured and sobbing into it.

He let her cry, kneeling above her in silence as though he understood precisely why she was so upset. Finally he climbed off the bed and fetched her knickers and nightgown, and when he came back, Bellatrix spat at him,

"You're not him. He's gone. He's gone… he's gone."

"Bellatrix." Lord Voldemort knelt down beside the bed, her nightgown balled in his hand. She peeled back the blanket and stared at him, and suddenly she saw her husband. She saw his eyes. She saw the bright, eager gaze of the man she'd married. She looked straight into his eyes and whispered,

"Did you love me? This summer, when I tortured and killed those Muggles for you? When I crashed the cars together for you? When I burned down a Muggle cottage for you? Did you love me?"

"Oh, Bella." Voldemort licked his lip and nodded. "I have loved you for twenty-five years. And I remember tonight. I remember leaving you. I remember the taxicab crash, and eating linguini at the trattoria overlooking the Pantheon, then coming back here in a panic because we'd received a note. I remember seeing my older self. I remember kissing you goodbye, and touching the shards of the Leaping Clock, and when I came to without you, it hurt worse than any Cruciatus Curse could ever hurt. And the next twenty-five years without you were not easy. It was easier before you were born; it was awkward when you were a child. But once you were grown, and still forbidden to me… it was impossible to bear."

"I never would have known," Bellatrix told him. "You were my master. I was only your servant."

He scoffed and shook his head. "The day you crashed those Muggles' cars together and made it look like an accident, you came to my office to debrief. We were alone for a half hour. I almost… I very nearly… I just about ruined everything that day. I came so close to losing control. I wanted you. I loved you. I _needed_ you."

"All you said was that I had served you admirably and that I would make a fine Death Eater. That I was suitably brutal, that you liked my cruelty." Bellatrix pushed herself up, still naked, and Voldemort slowly stood as he handed Bellatrix her nightgown. She slowly pulled it on, along with her knickers, and she said, "I never harboured any suspicion at all that you desired me."

"Then I was a better actor than I gave myself credit for being." Voldemort chewed his lip and shrugged. "We're going home. Back to England. I've already made my appearance to my followers, so I need to get back as quickly as possible."

"Oh. Erm. I shall dress," Bellatrix said. Voldemort nodded as she slid off the bed and went on shaking legs over to the Expanded suitcase she'd brought. She froze with her hands on the suitcase and asked, "You made your appearance to your followers?"

"Yes. Earlier today," Voldemort said. "I reappeared in my office in Malfoy Manor. I simply explained that I had come back from my own travels and that my younger self would not be seen again. Like you, a few people's minds noted that I am less scarred and damaged than they remember. I have a theory about that… not anything I care to discuss."

"So you told them that Tom Riddle was gone?" Bellatrix's throat was thick with tears, and she glanced over her shoulder. Voldemort nodded.

"I knew that, unless things splintered, Tom Riddle would touch the Leaping Clock in this hotel room and go back to 1945. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay here long. So I intend on Puddle-Jump Apparating back to my flat in Knightsbridge tonight and calling a meeting tomorrow to reestablish everything."

"What exactly are you reestablishing, Master?" Bellatrix asked, dragging her thumbs over the brass latches on the suitcase. Voldemort narrowed his eyes and tipped up his chin.

"I am reestablishing my authority," he said in a firm voice. "Also, your wedding to Tom Riddle happened just a few days ago. People need to get used to obeying and dealing with an older, far less childish Lord Voldemort."

"And what about that wedding?" Bellatrix asked. She glanced at Voldemort's left hand, to his platinum wedding ring. "I married the young Tom Riddle who was here. Am I… are we…?"

"That decision is yours," Voldemort said. He folded his hands before him and took a few steps toward her. He cleared his throat and said, "I have waited twenty-five years for you. Madly in love with you all the while. I am still the Tom you married. But now I am forty-three, and you have just turned nineteen. I am not the handsome boy of your own age anymore. I am not the naïve, unskilled, hapless boy you fell in love with; I have grown and changed. And so I understand if you wish to be released."

"Released," Bellatrix repeated. She shook her head, shutting her eyes. She thought of walking down the aisle, carrying her plum calla lilies, her veil in front of her face, and the sight of Tom Riddle in his tuxedo robes at the end. She thought of them exchanging vows, thought of him kissing her passionately in front of everybody. She thought of that night, the way they'd giggled like children as he'd struggled to get her wedding gown off of her. She thought of them landing with an _oof_ on the bed, of him smiling into their kiss as she murmured that he was her husband now. But that husband was gone. That husband had touched the Leaping Clock and had disappeared back to 1945, and he would now live twenty-five years without Bellatrix. That husband was gone.

"Bella?"

She opened her eyes and stared at her master, at Lord Voldemort, and she searched his dark eyes. She saw Tom there; she saw his familiar glint in the gaze. Voldemort gave Bellatrix an expectant look, and she flicked her eyes down to the black titanium rings on her left fourth finger. She stared at the diamond, remembering the moment Tom had given the ring to her. She looked up at Voldemort and said,

"I am a married witch. I married Tom Marvolo Riddle, who was born on the thirty-first of December, 1926. Do I still look upon my husband?"

"You do," he answered. "A husband who has waited to be able to love you properly for a very long time. Will you allow it?"

"I will," she nodded, studying him and deciding with a firm reliance on her own capabilities that she would make the best of what had happened. His lips curled up a little, and he nodded.

"Then get dressed," he said. "We're going home."

**Author's Note: Gah. Such angst. So Bellatrix has ****decided to be** **the wife of Lord Voldemort, who is now primed and ready to take back over his rightful place as the head of the movement in England. This should ****be interesting****, right? Thank you so very much for reading and a massive ****thanks** **for feedback. I appreciate it more than I can say.**


	21. Obey

"My friends," Lord Voldemort said to the Death Eaters he had assembled in Malfoy Manor. "I have returned. I'm sure you enjoyed your time with my younger self… most of you had not seen that boy in decades. But he has gone home to his time, and I have returned to mine. Your master is come home."

"Welcome back, My Lord," said Abraxas Malfoy quite firmly, and he applauded. The others round the table clapped, too, and Bellatrix forced her hands together along with the others. But she wanted to cry, for the tenth time in twenty-four hours. All she could think was that young Tom, the man she'd fallen in love with and married, was gone forever. She stared at her aged husband and tried to love him the same way she'd loved the younger Tom Riddle.

"Master," said Rodolphus Lestrange as the applause died down, "Where did you go?"

"Do not concern yourself with the details of my travels," Voldemort commanded, but Rodolphus scowled and insisted,

"The Tom Riddle who came forward in time prevented me from marrying Bellatrix Black. He killed my father-in-law, Amon Avery, one of his own followers. I think the rest of us, myself included, have the right to know just what's happened here."

Voldemort slowly pushed himself to his feet and glared at Rodolphus. "You think you have the right to know something?"

Bellatrix shivered. Voldemort's voice was calm and lethal. It was terrifying. She watched as Voldemort raised his yew wand, aiming it at Rodolphus, and repeated,

"You think you have the right to know something, Lestrange?"

"Dolph, apologise at once!" Rudy Lestrange hissed at his son, but Voldemort said,

"It's too late for that, Rudy. Your son needs a lesson taught to him, right this moment. My younger self denied you Bellatrix because she was meant to be _my_ wife. You are lucky I permitted you Alivia Avery, despite her father's horrid indiscretions. Will I tell you where I have been? No. I will not. It is none of your business. The next one who asks after it will see a flash of green and nothing more. You, Rodolphus Lestrange, will witness my mercy today. You will receive only pain. _CRUCIO!_"

Rodolphus screamed with a hideous squeal of tortured agony. He flung himself from his chair and landed on the ground as a scarlet web of light wrapped around him. Snared up in the light from Voldemort's wand, Rodolphus writhed and shrieked, convulsing and clawing at the ground. His father and brother looked on in shocked, horrified silence. The other Death Eaters seemed terrified but made no movement. No one dared speak. Bellatrix gazed up at Voldemort, whose face was steady and sure as he tortured Rodolphus. She tingled at the sight of him casting the Cruciatus Curse, at the way his black eyes were cold and his lips were pinched into a line.

Suddenly she found herself remarkably attracted to him, and the longer he held the Cruciatus Curse, the more Bellatrix found herself studying his hardened features and finding him awfully handsome. She breathed rather heavily where she sat, and at last Rodolphus grew hoarse from screaming so frantically. Voldemort broke his curse and stalked over to where Rodolphus Lestrange lay on the ground, and he kicked at the huddled form of his ill-mannered Death Eater.

"I had your wife's father killed for betraying me," Voldemort said in a calm voice as Rodolphus moaned and rolled on his side. "Shall I have you killed for questioning me, Lestrange?"

"No… please… Master…" Rodolphus clawed at the hem of Voldemort's robe, and Voldemort kicked roughly, sending Rodolphus' hand flying. Rodolphus whimpered, and Voldemort declared,

"You have been insubordinate and are undeserving of the mercy I have shown you. And, yet, I have shown it. You owe me the debt of your life. You will serve me properly forevermore. Am I well and distinctly understood?"

"Yes, Master! Yes, yes!" Rodolphus clamored up to his knees and clasped his hands together. "Forgive my transgression, I beg you! You're quite right; it's no business of mine or anyone else's what you do. I know better now than to ever ask such things of you. Please. I beg you to allow me to serve you, and I promise you, I will be your… your loyal servant forever! Please!"

"Get off the floor and sit in your chair like a civilised human being," Voldemort snarled. Rodolphus flailed as he struggled to pull himself back into his chair, and his father and brother reached to haul him up. Voldemort whirled on his foot and stalked back to his seat at the head of the table, and Bellatrix felt her heart racing. Her breath had quickened in her nostrils. Voldemort flicked his eyes to her, and she stared at him for a moment that found them locking gazes rather intensely. Bellatrix gasped, thinking to herself that this man - this grown version of her Tom - was catastrophically desirable. He faced the table full of Death Eaters and barked at them,

"Your master is returned. Are there any more questions regarding that?"

He was met with absolute silence. Voldemort nodded. He turned his face to Mulciber and Yaxley, who were seated beside one another, and they shrank away from him in fear. He narrowed his eyes at them and demanded,

"The two of you. Bring me a fresh Muggle to play with. This time, there will be no betrayal to the Ministry. Of that I am certain. Find me fresh meat, a fresh toy. I do not care if it is a man or a woman, young or old. Find me something… fun. I wish to see my wife make a game of its death to amuse me."

He curled up his lips then and glanced to Bellatrix. So this was how he meant to announce to them that she was still his wife. She sat up straighter and nodded.

"It will be an honour and a privilege to destroy your Muggle toy for you, Master."

"You know how I love watching you cast your curses, Bella. Whether I'm old or young, it's a beautiful sight to behold. And I crave the sight of you bathed in the green light of your Killing Curse. So, Mulciber. Yaxley. Find and bring me a Muggle. Tout de suite. At our next meeting, we shall discuss infiltration of Ministry departments. Rookwood, I want you to prepare dossiers on positions ripe for… penetration. Anything else?"

There was more terrified silence, and Bellatrix felt herself so alive that she could have leaped out of her seat and ripped at her husband's clothes. Instead she folded her hands on the table and blinked, dizzy with want.

"Dismissed," Voldemort snapped. The room cleared out, and Bellatrix slowly rose from her chair. She gulped as she walked behind Voldemort's chair, but he stopped her by reaching for her arm. He brushed his thumb along the inside of her wrist, making her shiver. She turned back toward him, and he shook his head.

"Not you," he said. "You are not dismissed."

Bellatrix felt her lips part. She stood there with him holding onto her, letting the room empty, and when at last the door had shut and the last of the Death Eaters had gone, Voldemort rose to his feet. He still did not release Bellatrix's hand. He smirked down at her, and he murmured,

"You look pretty today."

"That was… something," Bellatrix mused. She glanced to the spot where Voldemort had tortured Rodolphus, and she shut her eyes. She let out a little sound, feeling damp between her legs, and she heard Voldemort's low rumble of laughter in response. She moved closer to him, and he massaged the inside of her wrist as he asked,

"You liked that, didn't you? You enjoyed watching me be the master at work, hm?"

"Yes." Bellatrix nodded, feeling breathless. She looked up at him, and then she sucked in air hard, for he'd bent to kiss her. She moaned a little when he pushed his tongue between her lips and dragged it against the roof of her mouth. She backed up, for he was pushing her, and when she reached the table, he pulled his mouth from hers and grunted.

"I'll be quick," he promised, and he shoved up Bellatrix's skirts. She gasped in surprise and wondered just how naked he intended on getting them in this meeting room.

"Not excessively naked," he replied, and she realised he'd been using Legilimency. She scowled at him and reminded him,

"You promised to stay out of my head."

"Perhaps I shall teach you Occlumency to hold me to that promise a little better." He raised his eyebrows and shoved the crotch of her knickers aside. Bellatrix sank her teeth into her lip and whimpered as his fingers pressed against her wet entrance. He breathed quite deeply, his chest heaving and his cheeks going pink. He wanted her, she thought. He licked his lip and told her, "I think I shall teach you Occlumency for a lot of reasons."

"All right. Master." Bellatrix threw her head back and gripped the edge of the table, shoving her hips forward and whispering, "Please be inside me now."

"Yes." He sighed and pulled his hand from her, his fingers moving to the buttons of his trousers. She smirked up at him, thinking of the way he'd looked in the midst of casting a Cruciatus Curse, and she found herself reaching to race his fingers at the task of opening his trousers. He laughed a little and asked softly, "Do you want my cock?"

Her mouth fell open, and she felt drunk all of a sudden. She nodded, frantic with need. "I want to feel your come running down the inside of my -"

She gasped then, turning toward the door where someone was knocking firmly. Voldemort coughed in surprise and buttoned his trousers back up, and he called,

"One moment."

He wrenched his eyes shut in frustration and growled, and he hoisted Bellatrix off the table. She panted, irritated and alarmed, and yanked at her skirts. She licked her lip and stepped away from Voldemort, who cleared his throat and wiped his right hand on his trouser leg under his robe. His fingers were still damp from touching her, Bellatrix thought. He called out,

"Enter!"

The door opened, and Bellatrix felt her eyes go round as her father walked into the meeting room. Cygnus froze as he seemed to immediately realise he had interrupted something between Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort. But their master gestured for Cygnus to enter, and when he did, Voldemort wandlessly shut the door. Cygnus coughed a little and said,

"My Lord. I was just hoping to give you an update on your financial situation, taking into account your absence, as well as the presence of your… younger self… in this time."

"Of course," Voldemort said lightly. "Do come and sit."

He pulled out his chair at the head of the table, and Cygnus anxiously pulled out the next chair over. Bellatrix bowed her head and said,

"I shall leave you two to talk, then."

"No," Voldemort said, and Bellatrix looked at him in surprise. He raised his brows, speaking softly then. "These are _our_ finances, Bella; this concerns you, too. Sit."

She obeyed in silence, sitting opposite her father. Cygnus eyed her with a heavy dose of suspicion, and she knew why. He was wondering whether she minded this, whether she was all right with the fact that the young boy she'd married had disappeared and given way to the forty-something master. Bellatrix flashed her father a reassuring little smile and scooted her chair up to the table.

"Well?" Voldemort prompted. "You wanted to tell me about my money, Cygnus. Have at it."

"Ah. Yes, sir." Cygnus opened his leather folio and pulled out a parchment, which he handed to Voldemort. The Dark Lord studied the parchment as Cygnus spoke. "Throughout the few months that it was Tom Riddle here, My Lord, your financial health grew stronger than ever. In part, that is because we gained two new monthly donors, Icarus Selwyn and Hyacinth Greengrass. Also, your spending was, to be plain, exceedingly modest. So, as you can see on the ledger there, the balances of your accounts all swelled substantially."

"And, if I remember correctly," said Voldemort, handing the parchment back to Cygnus, "you paid for my wedding."

Cygnus' cheeks went scarlet, and he glanced at Bellatrix before assuring Voldemort, "I did so with pleasure, My Lord. I was more than happy to fund the occasion."

"Would you care to be compensated for your trouble, now that your daughter is married to a man more than twice her age? Now that I am wealthier than ever before?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes at his father-in-law, his servant, and Cygnus shook his head.

"No, sir. That is not at all necessary. It was my joy to pay for the wedding. It is a greater joy still to see that, despite the absence of your younger self, my daughter is not left without her husband."

Voldemort drummed his left hand on the table, and suddenly Cygnus was staring at Voldemort's finger. He pointed, rather rudely, and he gasped,

"Your ring. We always wondered… now it makes sense. People talked. There were rumours. Perhaps you'd married someone during your time on the Continent. We never knew why you wore a wedding band but never spoke of any wife. Now I know. It was her all along."

He had gone white in the face, and he stared at his daughter as he repeated in a hoarse whisper, his eyes welling,

"It was her all along."

"I have waited twenty-five years for her," Voldemort said, a tinge of pride in his voice. He tipped up his chin and scoffed a little as he said to Cygnus, "That night I pulled her from the frozen pond at Castle Rosier, when you'd invited me to dinner to discuss my fledgling movement? I knew that night that she would fall through the ice. I knew that I would have to drag her out and use magic to save her, to warm her blood. I knew that night that eventually she would grow up and marry Tom Riddle. You're right, Cygnus. It has been her all along. And that is why I have worn my wedding band all this time."

Cygnus slowly put the parchment he was holding back in his folio, which he shut and clasped. He seemed on the verge of tears then, and he whispered,

"Master, have you any other questions about your finances?"

"Not right now, no." Voldemort huffed a breath and licked his bottom lip. He glanced at Bellatrix and then said to Cygnus, "Actually… the Ministry is going to do everything they can to interrogate both Bellatrix and me. She and I will probably need to relocate homes; I do not feel that my current flat is sufficiently secure. I will probably need a large sum of Muggle currency to purchase a wholly unregistered property in secret. Arrange that for me. I should think… seventy-five thousand Muggle pounds or so. I'll purchase the new property in cash using a pseudonym. Get those funds for me as quickly as possible so that I have a safe place for Bellatrix to sleep at night."

Cygnus blinked quickly and nodded. He opened his folio back up and pulled out the self-inking quill from the centre. He jotted down a few lines of notes on a parchment and shut the folio again, and he said,

"I shall have the Muggle money for you tomorrow, My Lord."

"Very good. Dismissed, then," Voldemort said. Bellatrix's mind whirled as she realised how much was happening. Voldemort had tortured Rodolphus Lestrange today, right in front of everybody. He'd ordered the capture of another Muggle, whom Bellatrix was to execute for his amusement. And they were going to move homes to somewhere more discreet - and expensive, by the sounds of it - to avoid the Ministry's prying gaze.

And young Tom was gone, lost forever to his own time, replaced by the confident and authoritative wizard who now watched his father-in-law rise on shaking legs. Cygnus tucked his folio under his arm and pushed his chair back in. He bowed low to Voldemort, quite respectfully, and he murmured a single word. _Master._ Then he flicked his eyes to Bellatrix and turned to go. He was at the door, about to open it, when Voldemort said,

"Cygnus."

Bellatrix's father turned round again, looking expectantly at his lord come home. Voldemort drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table again and tipped his head.

"I am in love with your daughter," he said. Cygnus's eyes rimmed red and looked damp, and his bottom lip trembled a little as he looked to Bellatrix. He smiled weakly and nodded. Bellatrix just sighed, her lips curling up of their own accord. She couldn't quite find the words to reassure her father that she did indeed want to be married to this version of her Tom, this older and more sophisticated iteration of him. So she just reached for Voldemort's right hand and squeezed it, and Voldemort dragged his thumb over her knuckles. Cygnus' throat bobbed with emotion where he stood, and Voldemort finally said,

"I appreciate the report. Get me that Muggle money tomorrow. Dismissed."

**Author's Note: Oh, ****Bellamort****. The good ship that sails through seas where Voldemort tells his father-in-law ****that ****he loves Bellatrix in the same chapter ****that ****he orders up a fresh Muggle for Bellatrix to torture and kill. ****Gotta love** **these two, right? So it seems like ****Bellatrix is actually attracted** **to ****older!Voldemort**'**s confidence and authority, but will there come a point where she** **really****, ****genuinely ****misses the young him ****that ****she loved and married? And who's in the mood for some drunken storytelling/gut-spilling by this Voldemort who has seen Bellatrix's whole life, years on the Continent, **_**and**_ **1981? Hmm. **

**Oh,** **and let me know in the comments where you think he'll buy a new property! Will it be a****)** **the isolated Georgian house in the Cotswolds, b) the Gothic mansion outside Edinburgh, or c) the luxe terraced house in London? **

**Thanks as always for reading!**


	22. Stories

Bellatrix came walking out of the bedroom in her nightgown and black velvet dressing gown, and she grinned as she watched Voldemort moving around in the kitchen. They'd had dinner together, and he'd had two glasses of red wine during the meal. Then Bellatrix had gone to take a shower, and Voldemort had declared that he was having more wine. Now she came out from the bedroom in comfort, and he had stripped off his outer robe and had rolled up his white shirtsleeves.

It made her think of the younger Tom, seeing him with his sleeves rolled up like this, seeing him move around the kitchen. She stalked toward him as he poured gin into two tall glasses, and she realised at once what he was making.

"Cucumber Collins?" she asked, and as she walked into the kitchen, Voldemort handed her a drink and smirked at her. He sipped at his own drink and declared,

"I am drunk. Or… getting there. I had two more glasses of wine whilst you were in the shower. Now I've got gin. And you are so beautiful."

Voldemort sipped again, and Bellatrix laughed a little. She shook her head and took a drink, relishing the taste. It was so good, so very good, and she felt her own head spinning a little from wine and want. She flicked her eyes up to Voldemort and told him,

"You made me wet today. When you tortured Rodolphus."

He snorted a laugh and shook his head. "We're a pair. You make me hard when you cast a Cruciatus Curse. You made me hard when you did it and I was young, and you made me hard this past summer doing it. And I torture someone and you go wet. What does that say of us?"

"Probably says that we are awful people," Bellatrix giggled. She leaned on the counter and drank her cucumber Collins, setting the glass down and stepping closer to Voldemort. She smiled then and asked, "You mean to say that when I tortured that Muggle man for you in July, Master, and you stood there in stoic silence, you were going hard in your trousers?"

"Mmph." Voldemort swigged down the rest of his drink and set down his glass, picking up the bottle of gin on the counter and uncorking it. He poured more gin over his ice cubes and knocked it back, pulling a face. Bellatrix felt her eyes go wide, and she scoffed,

"Did you just drink gin straight, Master?"  
"Perhaps I did, yes." He coughed and shook his head. "Sitting room, if you please."

She laughed and held his hand as they made their way to the parlour. He was incredibly unsteady, wobbling on his legs and yanking on Bellatrix's hand as he stumbled. She grinned up at him and declared,

"You are properly sloshed."

"So I am. It's been awhile," he shrugged. He sank into one of the plush chairs, and Bellatrix sat in the one beside him. She watched as he touched at his eyebrows and rubbed, and he shut his eyes. She wondered distantly if he felt nauseated after all that wine and gin.

"I'm all right," he murmured.

"You promised to stay out of my mind," she chastised him, and he turned his eyes toward her and nodded.

"Right. Sorry."

"Did you pry into my thoughts when I was younger?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort cleared his throat. He dragged his teeth over his lip, just like the younger Tom had always done, and he whispered,

"Sometimes."

"And what did you find?" Bellatrix wondered. Voldemort made an odd sound, and he drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"You had a serious crush on Alexander Burke for a few years."

"Oh. That." Bellatrix felt her cheeks go hot. She twined her fingers together in her lap and gulped. "Alexander was three years ahead of me in school. When he was a sixth-year, and I was a third-year, I decided that I quite fancied him. Suddenly I rather enjoyed Quidditch matches, for he played Seeker. It was just a silly, fleeting -"

"You can't fool me, Bella; I was in your mind the day that boy married Hafwen Carrow. You went and cried in the bathroom and came back with puffy eyes, so I pried, and I saw your jealousy and sadness. You were sixteen, and he was nineteen."

Bellatrix went silent. She swallowed hard, remembering the day that tall, handsome Alexander Burke had kissed his bride. She hadn't been the only girl brought to tears by Alexander's marriage, she thought. She stared at Voldemort and reminded him,

"I had no idea that you were going to come forward in time and make me fall in love with you and marry me."

"No, of course you didn't," Voldemort agreed, "but the day you were crying over Alexander Burke, I was wearing a wedding band that you had put on my finger. And by then you had grown; you were sixteen. It was difficult. It was very, very difficult."

"Couldn't we have been friends?" Bellatrix suggested, and Voldemort chuckled.

"_Friends?_ I've never had actual friends, Bellatrix. I was going to be your husband, your lover, or your master. There could be nothing in between. It's why I haven't been drunk in years."

"I'm the reason you haven't been drunk in years?" Bellatrix raised her brows, and Voldemort huffed a breath.

"I haven't trusted myself," he said. "When you were a child, it was fine, but by the time you had a grown witch's body, I knew I couldn't be trusted to drink. I'd probably have shown up on your parents' doorstep slurring my words and demanding to see you or something."

"Did you imagine it?" Bellatrix pressed him, knowing she was pushing hard. She half expected him to snap angrily at her, but he just shut his eyes and tipped his head back against the chair. Bellatrix gripped the arms of her own chair and pushed as hard as she could. "Did you imagine what you would do to me, if you could?"

"I used to lie in that bed," Voldemort declared, pointing his finger toward the bedroom, "and remember the first time I tried to lose my virginity. I'm sure you recall what happened; I spilled myself all over the outside of you like a complete fool. At the time, in my youth, it was an utter embarrassment. But I laughed about it the day that I bought this flat and saw that bed again. I remembered how kind you were about the whole thing. And then I would lie in the bed and think of that time, of how excited you'd made me. I wanted nothing more than the chance to… to…"

He stopped then, and his cheeks darkened. Bellatrix sucked on her lip and asked hesitantly,

"What did you want the chance to do? Tom?"

"I wanted to come on you again." He opened his eyes and turned to look at her, curling up his lips in a playful little smile. He shrugged, looking like he'd drunkenly surrendered himself to telling all. "All summer, during meetings, I thought about it. Rookwood would be droning on about Ministry business, and all I could think was how badly I wanted to come on you. I'd stare at you and think of it."

Bellatrix laughed wildly. Voldemort looked vaguely offended, but Bellatrix told him, "I had no idea that you were thinking those things about me. I had no idea that you were thinking _anything_ about me."

"I have been thinking filthy things about you - grown you, obviously - for twenty-five years," Voldemort declared. He sighed, low and long, and said, "When I went back without you, in the years before you were born, before I went to the Continent, I lived in a filthy flat in Knockturn Alley. Thoughts of you sustained many a fantasy, night after night."

"Really?" Bellatrix rose and walked over to where he sat. She stood between his legs, and she put her hands on his hair. He leaned into her touch and licked his lip, shutting his eyes.

"Oh, Bella. I remember one night in Marseilles when I was learning how to curse objects. I woke up covered in sweat, calling your name. I'd been dreaming of you. Dreaming of being in the shower with you touching me. I'd spilled myself in my sleep, and I… mmph. Bella."

He'd reached up and taken hold of her waist, and she moved nearer to him. She let him untie her velvet dressing gown, let him push at it until she shucked it and it pooled on the ground at her feet. She stood there in her nightgown, and she whispered,

"All the years I've admired you, Master, I had absolutely no idea about any of this."

"I am through hiding from you." He opened his eyes and stared up at her, looking bleary from his drinking. He let out a shaking breath and murmured, "I want you. Now."

"You may have me whenever you wish," Bellatrix declared, "for as long as you want me. I am yours. Forever."

Voldemort rose to his feet, forcing Bellatrix back a step. He swayed a little and gnawed his lip as he squeezed her waist. He said in a quiet voice,

"When I was a young man, it humiliated me to come on the outside of you. It wasn't what I intended. But I spent years reliving the memory - the sight and feel of it - and now I want to do it again, Bellatrix. I want to come on you."

"As you wish, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded, but he bent and touched his lips to hers and commanded,

"Call me by the name you once did."

"Tom," she whispered onto his mouth. He swallowed her up in a kiss, and she moaned a little as his tongue searched her mouth. Suddenly she had an idea, and she descended from where she stood. Voldemort looked mildly confused until she settled on her knees, and his lips parted. He grunted a little and shook his head.

"On your face? No; I won't last half a minute… mmph."

"You want it. I can tell." Bellatrix reached up and started to unbutton his trousers, and he shifted where he stood as she pulled out his quickly hardening cock. He firmed up more than ever in her hand, and she smirked up at him.

"Shall I drink it?" she asked, "or shall I close my eyes and have you paint my skin with - _ahh__!_"

She yelped, for Voldemort had roughly seized her curls in both of his hands and pulled her into position in front of his cock. He tipped his head back a little and groaned as she moved her hand on him, and he whispered,

"It's not going to last."

"No one is timing anything," Bellatrix promised him. Had she said that before, she wondered? If she had, it would feel like an eternity ago for him. She aimed his cock at her face and pumped her hand, and she asked him in a low, steady voice,

"So, you thought of coming on me when you were a young man alone in London? And when you were on the Continent? And when I was your newest servant, sitting near you in meetings? All those times, you thought of putting your come on me?"

"Bella!" Voldemort choked out her name, and he grew so hard in her hand that she could feel his pulse throbbing on her palm. She dragged her thumb back and forth over his tip, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Bellatrix asked him,

"Did it make you finish, Tom? All those times you thought of doing things like this to me? Did it make you hard? Did it make you finish?"

"Bellatrix." He was gasping now, his cock swollen and purplish and twitching. Bellatrix breathed in deeply, knowing he was awfully close, and she felt a strong sense of need between her own legs. Voldemort's voice was strained then as he commanded her, "Shut your eyes."

She did, and she immediately knew why he'd ordered her to do so. She felt warm, slick fluid leaping onto her forehead, onto her cheekbones and nose, running over her eyelashes, down her cheeks, dribbling off of her chin. She panted and peeked her tongue out to lick it off her lip, moaning a little at the bitter flavour. She heard Voldemort grunting and groaning above her, and she felt his cock start to go just a little soft in her hand. She released him and knelt there, letting him study the painting he'd created. His breath was loud and quick, and he seemed a bit overwhelmed as he scoffed and marveled,

"Merlin's beard. Right. Erm… best clean you up now. Erm… thank you. _Tergeo__. __Scourgify__._"

Bellatrix let him help her to her feet once she was clean, and he stared down at her face as he said with sincerity,

"I really have loved you all this time."

Bellatrix reached up to hold his cheeks in her hands, feeling how hot they were from his arousal, and she promised him,

"I'm going to torture and kill a Muggle for you soon. And we're going to move to… wait. Where are we moving?"

"We'll find somewhere suitable, and we'll find it quickly," Voldemort said. "I was thinking perhaps we could look outside Edinburgh. I've always had rather a love for Scotland."

"So close to Dumbledore?" Bellatrix raised her brows, but Voldemort scratched his hair and coughed a laugh.

"You think I mean to leave our new house unsecured? It'll be warded up tighter than a Gringotts vault. Anyway, let's stop talking about houses and get you to the bed."

"The bed," Bellatrix repeated, confused. Voldemort cocked up an eyebrow and asked,

"Do you really believe I intend on leaving you unsatisfied after _that?_ Oh, no. You're going to come until you beg me to stop. To the bed with you."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix grinned and took his hand, guiding his stumbling self toward the bedroom and deciding she rather adored this older Tom. She was rather deeply in love with this self-assured, experienced, knowledgeable, Tom who knew what he wanted and took what he desired. Perhaps, she thought with a twinge of guilt, everything had worked out as it was meant to have done. Perhaps she was meant to be with him, and him with her. In any case, ten minutes later he had her gripping the sheets and crying out for him as she came, and she couldn't think about houses or guilt or anything but him.

**Author's Note: Whew! Lemony fresh fluff! I promise the next chapter will be significantly more plot-driven (****hellooooooooo****, Ministry and Dumbledore ****-** **and house-buying!) and we won't have any more lemons for a while! Ha! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.**


	23. Dorchadas Castle

Bellatrix jolted awake to the sound of someone banging on the door that led from the flat to the corridor. She sat straight up and gasped. Beside her, Voldemort snatched his wand and barked,

"_Accio_ trousers and shirt. One moment!"

He leaped out of the bed and caught his clothes, and he immediately started pulling them on. He gestured toward the wardrobe and told Bellatrix,

"Throw something on. Quickly."

The banging on the door continued. Bellatrix glanced out the window to see the grey light of early morning, and she demanded,

"Who would be here at this hour?"

"The Ministry, of course," Voldemort replied. "Dress. Now."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix rushed over to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of knickers and a knee-length black dress. As she wrenched it over her head, Voldemort snapped,

"Coming!"

Bellatrix walked at a brisk pace out of the bedroom, following Voldemort as he buttoned up his shirt and shoved up his rolled sleeves. He cleared his throat and shook his head, murmuring,

"Matilda Beaulieu. Can't say as I've missed her."

Of course he could sense her mind. Bellatrix sucked in air as Voldemort threw the door open and stared down the tall, thin witch who stood on the other side. Matilda raised an eyebrow when she saw the forty-three-year-old Voldemort before her, and she immediately said,

"Well. You're looking… older. And healthier than the last time I saw you at this age. Something's changed, _Lord Voldemort._ Or is it Tom Riddle?"

"Either one is fine," Voldemort lied, shrugging. "Why don't you come inside, Matilda, so that the Muggles don't hear all of our business, hm?"

"Have you something to hide from the Muggles?" Matilda asked primly, straightening her aubergine hat on her head. Voldemort scoffed.

"Well. I think the good people managing the enforcement of the International Statute of Secrecy would prefer that you and I spoke inside the flat. So do come in. Tea? It's far too early for gin."

"Gin?" Matilda's eyebrow crept higher than ever as she stepped into the flat. Voldemort shut the door, and Matilda glared at Bellatrix. "The last time I saw _you_, you were getting ready to marry an eighteen-year-old boy. What happened to him?"

"He grew up," Voldemort answered. Matilda licked her purple lipstick and said,

"Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black vanished from Ministry surveillance a few days ago."

"I'm sure you were watching carefully," Voldemort nodded. Matilda snorted.

"Yes. We were. Then I received word that the older Lord Voldemort had been spotted."

"Who told you that?" Voldemort asked calmly, but Bellatrix knew his mind must be whirring, spinning as he tried to figure out where they were watching him, who had eyes on him, who was spying or surveilling. Matilda shrugged and said simply,

"Not all of your neighbours are ignorant to your business."

Bellatrix felt her eyes go round, and she stared at Voldemort. His gaze was boring into Matilda's, and then he said,

"You could try, Matilda, but you'd never get truth serum into me, and I wouldn't tell you a lick of information."

Matilda appeared shocked by his invasion via Legilimency. She stumbled back a step, backing up toward the door, and then glanced to Bellatrix.

"She knows nothing," Voldemort assured Matilda. "She knows nothing about the time and place to which I traveled while my younger self was here. And even if she knew, you well know how catastrophic it would be for me to share information about the future with you."

"Where did you go?" Matilda demanded, but Voldemort just shook his head and said,

"A different era. You will know nothing else of it. Bellatrix would be of no use to you; I've shared nothing with her about my sojourn."

"Well, you'll talk when we bring you in to answer for your crimes," Matilda spat at Voldemort. He appeared entirely nonplussed, and he asked,

"What crimes are those?"

"We know," Matilda snarled. "We know that you are directly involved in the disappearances and deaths of several Muggles. And whilst your younger self was here, you were involved in the death of Amon Avery. We know it."

"You… know it," Voldemort repeated. He gave Bellatrix an amused look and shook his head, turning back to Matilda. "How do you know it, may I ask?"

"We have our ways of knowing!" Matilda insisted in a shrill voice. "We know."

"That sounds an awful lot like you _don't_ know," Bellatrix reasoned. "That sounds like all you've got is suspicion and hearsay."

Voldemort smirked a little where he stood, flicking his eyes from Bellatrix to the red-cheeked Matilda. He told the Ministry witch,

"I remember Amon Avery's death during my journey here in my youth. As it happens, I do feel terribly responsible for Mr Avery's death. You see, Amon took his own life."

Bellatrix gnawed her lip, waiting to see how Voldemort would handle this. Matilda looked awfully suspicious, crossing her arms over her chest as she asked,

"You're telling me Amon Avery committed suicide?"

"I am." Voldemort stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers and painted a sorrowful look on his face. "If I'm remembering correctly, and perhaps Bellatrix can fill in the gaps that twenty-five years have erased, what happened was that Amon Avery desperately wanted me to marry his daughter, Alivia. Instead, I married Bellatrix. My refusal devastated him. He took it as a personal attack, almost as though I were rejecting him as a father and a friend."

"Are you implying that Amon Avery took his own life because young Tom Riddle would not marry Avery's daughter?" Matilda scoffed loudly, and Bellatrix chimed in,

"What did Mrs Avery and Alivia say when you asked them about Mr Avery's death?"

Matilda demurred just a little, shaking her head. "They were less than forthcoming."

"Well, I imagine they're still horrified and humiliated over Mr Avery's death. His note was heartbreaking," Bellatrix said. "Tom - the younger Tom - was given the note by Mrs Avery. _I am so sorry that neither my family nor I __were good_ _enough for you_, it said. If only he'd known that Tom and I were meant to be together, that it was not an issue with Alivia at all…"

"Where did they bury the man?" Matilda pressed, and Bellatrix bowed her head as Voldemort said,

"I believe the family Vanished the body. There was no memorial service that I recall. They… pretended he'd never existed."

"So you're asserting that you had nothing to do with the death of Amon Avery?" Matilda narrowed her eyes. "And what about Harriet Sugarman?"

"I'm sorry. Remind me who that is?" Voldemort feigned ignorance, and Bellatrix tried not to smile. Matilda tipped her head and said,

"The Muggle woman who went missing when you were younger and here. We searched Malfoy Manor for hours. We interrogated you about her."

"Ah. Yes. That's right. It's been so long for me. You'll forgive me." Voldemort sighed, pulled his hands from his pockets, and shrugged. "I'm afraid I've got even less to tell you now than I had then. I didn't know any Harriet Sugarworth -"

"Sugarman," Matilda corrected, and Voldemort nodded.

"Right. Harriet Sugarman. I didn't know of her in my youth, though I do recall that long day of questioning at Malfoy Manor. I still know nothing of her. I do apologise for not having anything useful to give you on that front."

Matilda huffed a breath and looked from Bellatrix to Voldemort. She lowered her arms from where she'd crossed them, and she said,

"We know what you're up to. You may have sent your younger self back in time, and come back from wherever you were, but that doesn't compromise our focus on your movement."

"My movement." Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "You mean my group of friends, with whom I have political discussions?"

"That's a colourful way to paint an anti-Muggle, Pureblood supremacist organisation," Harriet sneered. She glanced at Bellatrix and then back to Voldemort and said, "You've got followers, not friends. You hold meetings, not dinner parties. You've got an office. You have aspirations and goals. We have been down this road before with Grindelwald; we won't go down it again with you."

"No. You're right. My path will differ greatly from Grindelwald's path," Voldemort affirmed. "He and I will have hardly anything in common ten years from now. I promise you that, Ms Beaulieu. You can call the Ministry dogs off me."

"That is the very last thing I can do," Matilda laughed, sounding bitter. She chewed at her purple lipstick and told Bellatrix, "You've made an awful mistake, marrying this man."

"Let's agree to disagree, Matilda," Bellatrix said in an airy tone. Matilda sighed and told Voldemort,

"We have eyes on you. Everywhere you go. Everything you do… we are watching. Carefully. Tread lightly, Mr Riddle."

"With the steps of a cat. I vow it." Voldemort smirked at Matilda and flicked his eyes to the kitchen. "I never made tea. I do apologise for my rudeness; I'm usually much more polite with guests. We've been so busy talking. Perhaps we might be finished talking now, and you could go about the rest of your day. It's only half-past five, but I'm certain you've got a heavy workload ahead of you."

"I'll see myself out," Matilda said, disbelief tinging her voice. She turned and opened the door, and as she walked out into the corridor, she whirled round and barked back at Voldemort, "Tell me where you went. Tell me."

Voldemort curled his lips up a little and nodded. "1981."

"1981. Why that year? What happens in 1981?" Matilda demanded, looking anxious. Voldemort shook his head.

"Nothing significant happens. Not now, anyway. Good day, Ms Beaulieu."

He shut the door without another word, leaving Matilda pink-cheeked and open-mouthed in the corridor.

* * *

"Well?" Voldemort gestured to the house before them. "What do you think? I hope you like it, because the Muggle realtor insisted it would _go quickly_, and so I've bought it already. Dorchadas Castle."

"It's striking, Master." Bellatrix walked up the stone pathway leading to the gothic mansion he'd purchased. The exterior was grey and cold, and as Bellatrix walked up the steps, she almost slipped, for it was raining a little. Voldemort aimed his wand at the grand, red-painted double doors, which slowly creaked open. Bellatrix walked into the foyer, gasping a little. There were enormous stained glass windows upon which the rain was pattering, and a sweeping double staircase led up and away from the foyer. Voldemort's -Elf came toddling into the foyer and bowed, and Bellatrix asked,

"Has the elf already brought our belongings here?"

"Earlier today, yes," Voldemort confirmed. "Let's have a look round, shall we? Come this way."

He led her to the left, down a narrow, wood-paneled corridor and into a huge parlour. It had hunter green carpeting and pale yellow walls, along with white marble columns round the room's perimeter. There was elegant velvet furniture, built-in bookshelves, and a grand piano in black. Bellatrix turned round slowly, admiring the space, and she nodded.

"Lovely," she breathed. Next, Voldemort showed her the kitchen and the dining room, which had seating for twelve but would surely only ever accommodate two. They crossed back through the foyer to the other side of the Dorchadas Castle, past a powder room and a cloak cupboard. The other wing had an extensive library and a dark, intimidating office. There was another, smaller parlour, this one more formal for reception and done up in white and dark blue. Out the back of the house was a glassed-in conservatory, which had potted plants and fountains and wrought-iron furniture.

"What do you think of it so far?" Voldemort asked as Bellatrix walked with him back into the foyer. She climbed the stairs with him and moved into a wing on the upper level of the house, and she said,

"I think it's simply splendid. How, may I ask, did you afford this with seventy-five thousand of their pounds? This seems like an expensive house."

"Scotland is far more affordable than England," Voldemort informed Bellatrix, "and I _may_ have pulled a few tricks involving some Imperius Curses in the meeting with the seller."

"Master!" Bellatrix giggled, walking with him into one wing of bedrooms. They saw three guest bedrooms on that side of the house - one in coral, one in pale green, and one in butter yellow. All of them had double beds with the blankets pulled up tightly. There were two bathrooms on that side of the house, as well, with clawfoot tubs and shiny tile. On the other side of the house, there was another small bedroom in sky blue with white bedding, and this one had an en suite bathroom. Beside it was the master suite, and Bellatrix breathed heavily as she stepped inside.

"So," she said, "this is to be our room."

Suddenly she found herself rather emotional. She stared at the bed, with its enormous and stout four-poster bed, heavy burgundy bed curtains, velvet blankets, and many pillows, and she teared up. She thought of the bed in young Tom's flat, where she'd been with him for the very first time. She had hardly known younger Tom outside of that bed. It had been where they'd slept together, where they'd explored one another's bodies. Now she would never sleep in that bed again, and it felt like she was losing another part of the young man who had been ripped away from her forever.

Voldemort came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder, and he said in a quiet voice,

"It pains me a little to leave that flat behind. When I bought it several years ago, I was emotional. It brought back so much of you. You came flooding back the moment I stepped over the threshold. I went into the kitchen and I could taste cucumber Collins, could feel myself kissing you for the first time. I lay in the bed and imagined you there with me. I took showers and thought of the way you would touch me as hot water streamed over me. And then I had you again, and we were together there, and it was real. It is awful to leave that place behind, isn't it?"

Bellatrix's eyes burned. She blinked as she stared at the dark bed with its burgundy covers. She looked up at Voldemort and shook her head.

"No. It isn't awful. This house is not awful. It will be wonderful. Making new memories with you - _this_ you - will be wonderful."

Voldemort curled up his lips and nodded. He brushed his finger along Bellatrix's jaw and bent to kiss her lips softly. She sighed onto his mouth, and he whispered,

"I've got a surprise for you."

"Really?" Bellatrix felt dizzy. He kissed her again, stroking at her jaw, and he hummed,

"There is a door at the bottom of the stairs in the foyer, and it leads down to a wine cellar. There is wine down there. Loads of it. There is something else, too. Go have a look."

Bellatrix frowned in confusion, but she did as he commanded and she walked quickly out of the bedroom and down the corridor away from him. She trotted down the stairs and into the foyer, and she found the heavy wooden door on the back wall, the one Voldemort had mentioned. Bellatrix pulled out her wand and cleared her throat, opening the door and aiming her wand ahead of her. She walked down the stairs into the wine cellar, and then she froze.

Huddled on the ground, bound with chains, unmoving but breathing and obviously alive, was a strapping man with strawberry blond hair and a thick beard. He just lay there in stillness and silence, and Bellatrix grinned.

This was her Muggle.

She turned round to see Voldemort at the top of the steps, leaning on the threshold and flashing her a cocky smile. She gave him a bit of a seductive look, biting her lip as she asked,

"Is this for me, Tom?"

"Show me what you can do," he replied. "Make him suffer. Make it good."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix whirled back toward the Muggle on the ground, aiming her wand at him. "_Emancipare__. CRUCIO!_"

**THE END**


End file.
